


Iron

by Samking



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multiple Pairings, Trench Warfare, Violence, War, World War I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samking/pseuds/Samking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Europe has been tense for the past fifty years with the rise of rival nations all competing for the same resources. Empires are built while others begin to wane. Rodriech wants to survive this new world that has emerged with his power, which is steadily declining, intact. Gilbert is harboring a grudge for the past century and intends to make good on his threats against Francis while making sure that everyone knows Germany is not to be messed with. Arthur and Francis are tired of fighting each other and know they could be stronger if they work together in this new century. And Ivan just wants to stop being the one everyone fears.</p>
<p>But it's 1914 and the fateful shots at Sarajevo have sparked a war that none of them were truly prepared for. Between the muddy trenches and the misjudgment of its length, this war will become one of the worst. These four years will be enough for all nations to truly become bitter and tired of war. During its length friendships, alliances, and relationships will be put to the test as tensions rise and empires fall, because ghosts aren't the only things that can haunt you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

World War One

Chapter One: June 27, 1914

**Sarajevo, Austro-Hungarian Empire**

His nose twitched as the sun hit it, waking Rodriech up slightly. Mumbling to himself though he rolled over to hold his wife Elizaveth only to find the space empty. He cracked one amethyst eye open, she never got up before him, she much preferred to lie around all morning in bed then to get up. They had responsibilities though, only on occasion could he indulge her in such pleasures. This was not his bedroom; it wasn't even a room in of his many houses. Sarajevo, he was visiting Gabrielo, the representative of the Serbians, a rowdy boy who had recently been loudly protesting the idea of one Serbian nation which would upset his empire's holding of Bosnia-Herzegovina. Rodriech was a bit afraid that the boy's ideas of nationalism would spread to the other regions under his control, he had worked hard for the past four hundred years to keep his empire together, first by helping the Holy Roman Empire and then with his own empire, it was really just part of what had been the Holy Roman Empire, nearly a hundred years ago. He would not let this boy ruin everything he had worked so hard on to keep together.

When this was all settled they could all take a trip to Italy, he had missed seeing the cheerful boy who had been raised in his household alongside the Holy Roman Empire. Feliciano's betrayal and subsequent reunification with his brother Lovino had broken Rodriech's heart. He was more or less used to the idea of a unified Italy now; they had been joined together for the past fifty years now. This was the first time the Italian peninsula was under one government since Roman Empire fell, something Rodriech only had hazy memories of, he had been so wild and savage back then. It was better not to dwell on such times.

Lazily he pushed the covers off of him, he had some meetings to attend to today, mostly with Gabrielo, if the boy would listen to him and his offers, there was no reason this cry for nationalism had to be met with violence. Rodriech would prefer to avoid that route if at all possible. Recently Russia had allied themselves with the Serbs for reasons that were hazy to Rodriech, something about being Slavs together. Rodriech was sure Ivan and Gabrielo had hardly met, Gabrielo being under the rule of Sadiq and before that Alexius before becoming his own country just to the south of his own empire. It all seemed rather silly to him, Gabrielo often pointed out this alliance to Rodreich whenever he met with the boy, but he was pretty sure that if push came to shove Gabrielo would be on his own, Ivan rarely cared for those that weren't his own. At least tomorrow was Sunday and that meant no meetings, at least not with Gabrielo. Tomorrow was saved for his own boss, well Franz Ferdinand wasn't his boss yet, but he would be one day, when Franz Joseph died.

Rodriech really didn't want Franz Ferdinand to come to Sarajevo; he felt it was too dangerous, too many revolutionaries in the city, but the man was insistent. Everything would go smoothly with the trip though, Rodriech was sure of it. The people wanted a country, yes, but it would be foolish of them to attack the heir to Austrian-Hungarian Empire. A small frown on his face, Rodriech began to grope around the nightstand for his thin, rectangular glasses. He didn't really want to think about anything going wrong with the Archduke's visit to Serbia, nothing would go wrong, everything would be fine. With a long sigh he swung his legs off the bed, it was taking him an awfully long time to get out of bed this morning, he noted to himself. He had a lot on his mind, felt uneasy all the sudden; he hoped it was just the lack of food in his stomach and the displeasure of having to go through these meetings with Gabrielo, again.

He picked his glasses up from the bedside table and slid them on his face. The world seemed a little less fuzzy now. He was one of the few nations unfortunate enough to have to wear spectacles, a human flaw in a person who could not always afford to be human. With a small groan he stood up and made his way over to the bathroom that was adjoined to his hotel room. He walked over to the sink and splashed some cold water on his face; he needed to wake up, to stop being so consumed in thought today. These worries were unnecessary; they would only make him look older faster. A humorous thought, Rodriech had looked to be in his early twenties since the sixteenth century, he half-hazardly wondered if he would ever look any older or if he would die one day looking like a young man. It didn't matter; it wasn't like he was going to die anytime soon. His nation was stable. He walked away from the mirror, pushing aside any thoughts about dying and left the bathroom to find his clothes to wear today.

He straightened the cream cravat he wore as he looked at himself in the mirror; he was supposed to meet Gabrielo in an hour. He would have just enough time to eat breakfast before it would commence, well he would if he could keep his mind from floating all over the place again. He needed to stay focused on what was ahead of him today, not all these what ifs that seemed to float around in his head. Why was he back to thinking about the Holy Roman Empire again? He hadn't really thought about the boy in such a long time, Ludwig was a totally different person now, doing whatever Prussia told him to do. He knew it would be a bad day if he had to think about the albino shlampe before breakfast, he still didn't get on well with his old rival even if they were really his only ally. Technically Italy and the Ottoman Empire were allied with him as well, but the only one he knew he could truly count on was Germany. How times had changed.

"Mister Edelstein, can I get you anything else?" the waiter at the hotel's restaurant asked in nearly impeccable German. Rodriech shook his head absorbed in the apple streusel he had ordered for breakfast, the flakey pastry was one of his favorite breakfast dishes. Elizaveth would smack him with one of her frying pans if she saw this, muttering in Hungarian that he needed some protein to go with the sugary dish. An argument that had happened many times in the early days of their marriage when she finally felt she was on equal footing with him to criticize his eating habits.

"I am fine, thank you." He said glancing down at the newspaper in front of him. There wasn't anything new to report really, not today. Stocks were doing well, that was always a plus, Rodriech didn't need a bad economy to go along with this mysterious feeling of dread that had been inside of him since he woke up this morning. Perhaps he should cancel the Archduke's trip here, go back to Vienna and Prague where Elizaveth was waiting for him as well as a mountain of paperwork. No, no he couldn't do that, not when the Archduke was already on his way from the capital. He took a deep breath, paranoia would get him nowhere in the world, he was better than this. He glanced back down at the newspaper again and began to read a short article about something that was going on across the ocean in North America, foreign names swirled around in his head as he attempted to read it: Pancho Villa, Huerta. He doesn't really pay too much attention to things going on across the ocean in the Americas, he never had any colonies over there to worry about and now days Alfred kept mostly to himself, butting in every once in a while about keeping China open and what not, and the other major one over there- what was his name again- was still part of Great Britain so Rodriech often just lumped him in with whatever Arthur was doing.

**London, England**

This wasn't splendid isolation; this was madness Arthur decided as he stepped out of his study, Rajesh and Johannes were bashing each other up with wooden swords in the living room with Kyle egging them on from the sidelines, his koala clinging onto him. Honestly weren't they getting to be a little too old to be doing that? Leon was in the corner playing with more of those explosives he had, hadn't Arthur taken away those fireworks yesterday? There were pencil markings on his wall and papers scattered all over the floor. This was madness, not the house he ran properly, where were the other colonies at? Where was Matthew, he was supposed to be watching them? He almost retreated back into his study not wanting to deal with the mess, but he was the British Empire, the largest empire in the world and he was not going to be chased out of his home by some children. Rather rowdy children. "Matthew!" He called sharply, usually Matthew dwelled in small home in Ottawa across the ocean in his own domain of Canada, but the soft spoken young man was here for a gathering of the colonies and domain, all had come except for one, Wallace, the island dominion by Australia had been troublesome at best about coming to these things. He was rather independent now that Arthur had granted him some sense of autonomy.

"Help!" He heard Matthew's quiet voice from the nearby closet. What had those boys done? He really shouldn't refer to some of them as boys anymore Kyle and Rajesh were getting a bit too old for him to be calling them that, though one wouldn't know it by the way they behaved. He hurried over and opened the door to find the blond tied up inside the small room to a chair. "Arthur, I'm sorry, I just- Leon distracted me and then the next thing I knew I was being forced into this chair." He looked unhurt to Arthur's relief. These young ones though were getting out of hand.

"It's okay, Matthew." Arthur reassured as he untied him. "I'll deal with them now." Matthew grimaced slightly. What was that about? He was master of the house, the children all resided in it and it was him who should deal out punishment.

"You don't have to, Arthur, it's not that big of a deal." Matthew protested, but Arthur shook his head, he was going to deal with this. He would not tolerate this kind of behavior from his colonies. Bang! Arthur rushed back into the hall to find the source of the noise. Black powder covered the entire living room now and everyone in it.

"Leon Wang Kirkland!" Arthur shouted, the boy's face was all black and it looked as if he had no eyebrows left now, singed off by the explosives. Kyle's koala was no longer on the boy's back and was making loud squawking type noises from the nearby curtains while the boy was on his back laughing along with Rajesh and Johannes. Arthur could feel his blood pressure rising as he looked at the mess that had once been his orderly house. Why today of all days? Why did they have to decide to destroy the house today? He was about to go on a tour of Europe tomorrow, it would be his first time leaving the young colonies alone since the Boar Wars. Matthew silently stood behind the British Empire watching in shock. "All four of you will clean this mess up, you will wash every bit of black powder and pencil off the walls. You will then take your mess back up to your rooms where you will spend the rest of the night quietly thinking about what you have done or so help me God!" He growled at all of them. The boys instantly stopped laughing as Arthur started to yell and watched him with fear in their eyes. "Matthew," he said turning back to the Dominion of Canada, "can you watch them?" The blond nodded his curl in the front of his hair bobbing as he did so. "Good." And Arthur retreated back to his study.

What was wrong with these fiends? They were hellions, every one of them. He let out a huge huff as he sat down at his desk and looked at all the paperwork he still had left to do. He couldn't do this right now, he needed some tea. He pushed the chair away from the desk and walked towards his small stove in the room that he used for heating when it was cold out and as a place to warm water for tea. Had he been this bad at their age? Alfred certainly had, but at that time it had only been him and Matthew, and the Canadian was so quiet that Arthur had forgotten he was there sometimes. Arthur tried to think back to when he had been a young teen like these boys were, that had been when? He thought back to being invading by the Vikings, raids that often included Lukas and Mattias along with them. How painful some of those raids had been. Then fighting with Alfred the Great, pushing back the invaders. Ah yes, those had been the days. He smiled to himself thinking about his own youth, he had been a little wild himself back then. And then Francis' invasion in 1066, well Francis had helped partake in the invasion even if it really hadn't been his people invading; they were more Mattias's people then Francis'. And the crusades, who could forget those? Arthur hadn't partaken in the first two; he had been trying to keep peace and unity when the first one broke out. But he had gone with Richard the Lionheart to retake the Holy Lands on the Third Crusade, though now, looking back, he wished he had stayed in England.

The kettle whistled, pulling Arthur out of his reverence of the past, not he hadn't been like these hellions, not one bit. Everything he had done had been out of survival and self-preservation, nothing more, nothing less. The world had been different back then, less civilized as the one they lived in today. Arthur nodded in agreement with his thoughts as he poured the boiling water into a small cup and dunked the tea bag into the steamy water. And he was king of the world, the largest empire in history, the sun never set on his empire, it spanned from the east to the west. It was glorious. He smirked as he lifted the tea cup to his mouth after letting the tea leaves stoop in the water for a few minutes. He dominated over his brothers, the ones who said he was weak once and would never amount to anything. Well he was the master now. He settled back into his chair and looked over at the mirror that he kept mostly for decoration in the office. His straw colored hair and green eyes were fresh and clean, freckles light dotted his nose, and he'd had a lot more when he was younger. He looked powerful, no longer the frightened child who had hidden in the woods from his older brothers, running to Francis for help all the time. He would never be powerless like that ever again.

"Do you feel it?" He whirled his head around to see Francis standing in the door way of the study. The Frenchman looked relaxed as he leaned against the frame; he was dressed in a light blue suit, one that might look gaudy on anyone but this particular Frenchman. Long golden hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail to keep the hair out of his face.

"Get out, Francis; I don't have time for your games." Arthur snapped, "Why are you here anyway?" He must have some reason, their lands were close, but the English Channel prevented Francis from just walking in whenever he so pleased. The channel had kept many would be attackers out including one of Francis's former bosses, Napoleon.

"I am here to pick you up for your tour of Europe." Francis said with a smile as he stepped into the room. "What did the boys do this time, I saw Mattheiu giving them buckets filled with soap and water." He walked up behind the chair and put his hands on Arthur's shoulders and began to rub. "So tense mon cher."

Arthur let out a small moan of pleasure before answering Francis's question. "They drew all over the walls and one of Leon's explosives went off and black powder covered them." Arthur grumbled, but his grumbles only seemed to make Francis laugh. "I thought you weren't coming with me, something about being too busy."

"I changed my mind." Francis murmured into Arthur's ear as he pressed down a little harder on his shoulders working out the kinks in it. Such a delicate touch, Arthur relished in it, one of the few good things that had come out of his entente with Francis was their relationship. They no longer fought the way they used to, though Francis did annoy the hell out of him most of the time, and they were friendlier then before, very friendlier. Arthur had invited the man to come on the trip around Europe a few months back only to have the Frenchman decline him.

"What made you change your mind?" Arthur asked leaning into the back of his chair slightly, he wanted to turn around and look into the man's sparkling blue eyes, but the menstruation to his shoulders felt too nice to stop.

"Can't you feel it, Arthur? Something's going to happen." Arthur frowned, he felt the uneasiness in the back of his mind most of the day, but he had really hadn't paid it much thought till Francis said something and that uneasiness wouldn't go away now that it was out in the open.

**St. Petersberg, Russia**

A young lady, dressed very lavishly in a cream ball gown, stood in front of a white door, swaying on her feet as she knocked with a small giggle. "Ivan, are you in there with Mister Alfred?" she asked. With a groan Ivan sat up looking over at the blond still sleeping beside him, Anastasia had the worst timing.

"Da, Mister Jones is catching up on his sleep." Ivan called back, correcting the young lady. She wasn't supposed to refer to Alfred by his first name, but the youngest daughter of the Tsar cared little for formalities of any kind. She had been a troublesome young lady much to the displeasure of her nurses as a child. To Ivan she reminded him of the young blond nation of the United States of America; he enjoyed her playful personality and warm smile. He loved all of the Tsar's children, as he had loved all the ones of the Tsar's before him. Ivan loved children, how warm they were, how they were not frightened of him like some of the other nations were. Alfred had children, they were not truly the man's children, but he took care of them, they represented his states. He actually hadn't met the two youngest yet, the representation of Hawaii, her name was Lilo and the other was the representation of Alaska, a massive territory that bordered Alfred's brother Matthew rather than Alfred himself; Alfred didn't talk about him much only that he was a baby at the moment. Ivan wouldn't mind meeting him, but Alfred refused so Ivan didn't bring up the idea very often.

"Shush, Ivan." Alfred murmured rolling over and staring up at the Russian nation with his big blue orbs, he looked so tired. "You're so loud." Ivan merely snorted at the thought, Alfred was the loud one, everyone knew that.

"It's time to get up, Alfred." Ivan said gently, "There's a party tonight and we must make an appearance." Alfred muttered something into the pillow. "What was that?" He asked sweetly.

"I said, you have to make an appearance. I can stay here in bed and sleep." Alfred said grumpily. Ivan gave Alfred a small smirk before bending over and lazily kissing the American's lips. "Ivan." Alfred groaned as the Russian drew back but the American wanted to continue the kiss. He sat up trying to reach the Russian's lips to kiss them again ignoring the teasing smirk on Ivan's face.

"Get up, Alfred; we can continue that after the party if you come." Ivan said getting up off the bed and walking over to the wardrobe where his formal attire hung, freshly laundered and pressed, a dark blue military uniform with many different medals hanging off of it. He walked behind the paper divider, a gift from his sister Natalya, so that in her words 'no one can see your handsome body when you change.' A thoughtful gift despite her scary words that had come with it, he loved his sisters, he really did, but sometimes they were too much for him. Both of them had gone a vacation to the Black Sea for the month and so Ivan had decided that it was safe for him to invite Alfred over. Natalya would not take his relationship with Alfred well, she still wanted to marry him and brandished a knife at any nation that got too close.

"Can we continue now?" Alfred asked standing just beside the divider, his cream colored sleep shirt coming down to his mid thighs as Ivan pulled on the navy blue pants. He winked suggestively at the Russian nation who felt blood rush to two areas in his body.

"After, Alfred." Ivan said pushing away any thoughts he had about what was hidden underneath the cream colored cotton. He didn't need to imagine too much as he had seen it time and time again. "Get dressed." He said with a hearty laugh as he pulled his pants up the rest of the way. Alfred made a cute pout face that almost made Ivan want to give in to the American, but he wasn't sure they'd have enough time before the party started to finish up and get dressed again. It was just safer to wait. "Alfred."

"Fine, fine." Alfred said turning his back to Ivan and raising the sleep shirt over his head so that Ivan got a good look at his ass. Ivan hummed a little as he buttoned up his under shirt, an old Russian ballet. "Is that Swan Lake I hear?" Alfred teased from where he was changing by the bed.

"Perhaps, Fredeka, it is." Ivan chuckled as he called his lover by a private nickname that was only used when they were alone.

"Cute, Vanya." Alfred said, emphasizing the last word, a Russian nickname for someone named Ivan. It was slightly demeaning, but he never saw it that way when Alfred used it. Alfred wouldn't use it spitefully. Ivan walked out from behind the divider to watch Alfred button up his jacket, fumbling slightly with a few of the golden buttons emblazoned with the seal of the United States of America.

"Navy blue looks good on you." Ivan commented with a small smile as he offered the American his arm. "Shall we depart?" Alfred nodded, linking his arms with Ivan's and leaving the bedroom.

The nation of Russia lived in the Winter Palace in one of the many guest residents; his own quarters consisted of a bedroom, private parlor, and a sitting room as well as a balcony with a beautiful view of the gardens below. Ivan greatly enjoyed it, though he could have done without the man that lived down the hall from him. A gaunt man, in Ivan's opinion, with a horse like face and shaggy black hair, Rasputin who was also was strolling down the hall to the grand ball room where tonight's party was to be. Grigori Rasputin was the supposed healer of Alexi, the only son of Tsar Nicholas, but like many others Ivan believed Rasputin was more to the Tsarina then was let on. He was not overly fond of the man; in fact some might even claim that he was hostile. "Good evening, Ivan, who is this young man?" Rasputin asked with a smile, a smile that Ivan knew was hiding a villainous plot.

"I am Alfred Jones." Alfred said unhooking his arm from Ivan's. "I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of meeting you before." Alfred gave the man a warm smile that he didn't deserve, and offered a hand to shake. Ivan almost flinched when Rasputin took it; he didn't want that vile man touching his sunflower.

"I am-" Rasputin started but Ivan cut him off.

"He is Alexi's healer," Ivan said, "Grigori Rasputin." He took Alfred's hand wanting to lead him away from the other man. Alfred gave him a puzzling look.

"It was nice to meet you, Mister Rasputin." Alfred said as he allowed Ivan to lead him away from him. He stopped when they had turned off the main hall and pulled Ivan into a small hall that only servants really used.

"What was that, Ivan?" Alfred hissed, a bit of anger showing through his dark blue eyes. "I wouldn't have minded talking to him."

"He is a con man, Alfred. A dangerous man who has wormed his way into a position in the court through lies and trickery, I do not want him near you." Ivan said quickly. "I did not mean to frighten you." Alfred narrowed his eyes at Ivan, giving the other nation a small glare. Ivan knew that Alfred did not appreciate him dictating whom Alfred spoke to or restraining him in any manner. The American nation didn't listen to anyone, except perhaps his boss on occasion, not since the war between him and Arthur. Ivan liked his free spirited nature; he guessed it was one of the many things that had attracted him to the younger nation so much. And unlike many of the other European nations he didn't see Alfred as backwater. It came from his own isolation; he had been controlled for many years by the Mongols known as the Golden Hoard. He had kept the rest of Europe from really getting to know Ivan and Ivan from getting to know them. When he had emerged from his isolation, he was behind, everyone else seemed light years ahead of him with colonizing the New World and their beautiful paintings and their Enlightenment period, he had tried to adopt many of the idea through Peter the Great but still Arthur and Francis saw him as a threat, well they had up until about ten years ago when he had been humiliated defeated by that island nation to his east, the upstart late to the game Japan.

Kiku seemed nice and polite, Ivan was well aware that Alfred got along great with him as did Arthur and many other nations. But he and Kiku argued over land, the young man was greedy, he wanted as much land as he could get a hold of, and he didn't use conventional warfare either with his surprise attack at Port McArthur in China had been any indication of Kiku's blatant ignorance of conventional warfare. For now Ivan was content to ignore him, keeping trade to a minimum, but distantly respecting the young man's hunger for more. His invasion of Korea a few years back and now occupation had seemed to sate the island nation for now. Ivan guessed that the only good thing that had come out of his war with the nation ten years ago was that he now was in alliances with France and England, and that the two other nations didn't regard him as a threat. He didn't like to be threatening; he really would prefer to get along with everybody.

"Hello Tino and Toris." Ivan said as he entered the ballroom to see the other two nations standing near the doors talking. They weren't really nations anymore, but they had been at one point in their lives, now they were just regions of his own territory now. He didn't see Feliks, the slightly annoying blond nation that followed Toris around everywhere and often crossed dressed; it must have been time for him to go to Prussia's household.

"Hello Mr. Branginsky, Mr. Jones." Toris said giving a slight bow to both of them. Alfred waved Toris off and gave him a bright smile.

"You can just call me Alfred you know, none of this Mr. Jones stuff. We're both nations." Alfred said with a small laugh, Ivan sucked in a breath. He wouldn't contradict Alfred, not now; he was still irritated over the whole thing with Rasputin.

"Hello Mr. Branginsky." Tino muttered more darkly, he and Ivan had never gotten along. Some of the people who lived in the area that would one day make up Ivan's northwestern border had gone on many raids against the Finns when Finland had been its own country before and even after it fell under Swedish rule. He had often offered Tino a chance to come to his house before the Swedes gave him up in 1809. Since then Tino had been hostile, Ivan was aware of the blonde's love for the Swedish nation, a towering man by the name of Berwald, but there was nothing he could do for the smaller man, a tsar long ago had forbidden him from ever seeing Berwald again. A sad tale, Berwald had never really fought back about the treaty just allowed Tino to be taken from him because it was the will of his people. It was dangerous to fall in love as a country, things could change in the blink of an eye that could turn you against the very people you love, but there was something inherently human about them as well, as nations craved the love and comfort of others. Love and comfort was something Ivan was sure they were going to need soon, if the feeling in the pit of his stomach was anything to judge by.


	2. Chapter Two

World War One

Chapter Two: June 28, 1914

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or its wonderful characters.

**Brandenburg, German Empire**

"Gilbert! Gilbert!" Ludwig shouted knocking on his brother's door, normally he would open it to wake his brother, but he was aware of the visitor his brother had and knew she would not want to be disturbed in such a manner. A small frown made its way onto his face as he thought about the woman, she shouldn't be here. If Rodriech ever found out- he was their only ally, they couldn't afford to lose him.

"Go away, West." He heard his brother shout back. "It's Sonntag." Ludwig huffed, just because it was a Sunday didn't' meant Gilbert or Mrs. Elizaveth should sleep till ten. He turned away from his brother's door to go back to the library to read again.

Gilbert groaned at his brother's intrusion, West always had been the more responsible of the two. He looked over at the sleeping woman next to him. Well she had been sleeping, now green eyes blearily were opening. "Rodriech?" she asked. Once, her calling him the Austrian's name would have cut him deeply, now it was only a minor irritation. "Gilbert." She corrected herself with realization. "I'm so sorry, Gilbert." Her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. She made a small groan as she sat up, keeping the blankets to her chest.

"Morning." Gilbert said looking outside the window to the bright June sun shining in. Something seemed off, Elizaveth wouldn't meet his eyes, and that made him irritated. She didn't love him, she never had. She had first started sleeping with him to get away from Rodriech and his prissy ways, leaving whenever he wasn't home. He'd complied, he had originally liked the idea of it being payback of some sorts, he and Rodriech hadn't gotten along for many years. Now though, now he felt no satisfaction from their nights together. There was no real point to it now.

"Gilbert, why are we doing this?" Elizaveth asked, her voice pulled Gilbert away from the window looking back to her. "Why are we here, together?" He groaned slightly as she asked him these impossible questions. Why was she asking him this now, after the deeds were done? Women, always so dramatic.

"Then leave, no one is forcing you to come." Gilbert snapped at her. He had no patience for her antics this morning. He felt tense for some reason, like a coil ready to spring, he had since he'd woken up to Ludwig's banging on the door. He took a deep breath counting to ten before speaking to the Hungarian again. "Perhaps we should stop these meetings; they are detrimental to both of us." Elizaveth nodded. She seemed almost relieved that he was the one suggesting that they end these meetings. Shouldn't that be him though, she'd been the one convincing him during one of these bouts of sex to ally with her and Rodriech in the League of the Three Emperors, that had fallen apart soon after but that hadn't been hers or Roddy's fault and had set the way for them to remain their allies up to now. The alliance had been quite the turn from his and Rodriech's century of war.

"Gilbert, I-" Elizaveth started to speak but Gilbert cut her off before she really could say anything.

"Do you love him?" he asked suddenly, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer, but it was too late to take the question back now.

"Sometimes." Elizaveth admitted, "He is a sweet man, but sometimes he can be stifling." Gilbert couldn't argue that, Rodriech often appeared as if he had a stick shoved up his ass. But poor Rodriech, he never thought he would say that, what a game she was playing with him. Rodriech loved Elizaveth, always had since they were kids, and he'd always been jealous of Gilbert when they were younger because of his easy friendship with the female nation. And Elizaveth was only playing with the Austrian's heart, almost cruelly in a way. "Do you understand?"

"He loves you." Gilbert said hoarsely, she nodded, she had always been aware of Rodriech's love for her, ignoring it most of the time, using it to her advantage when she saw fit. "You are a cruel woman." Her eyes narrowed at his words, he was glad he did not allow frying pans into his bedroom. Her jade eyes lit up with anger as she made her rebuttal against him.

"You're one to talk Beilshmidt, what about Ludwig. You've kept his identity a secret not only from him but from Feliciano and Rodriech as well, those who once cared for him. And Francis, he beats himself up thinking he killed the Holy Roman Empire, yet he lives. Why do you keep it a secret?" Gilbert rose ever so slightly to be taller than her. Why was it that whenever they argued his brother was brought up? She knew the secret of Ludwig's past. A secret not even Ludwig himself was aware of. The Holy Roman Empire had never adopted a human name. It wasn't all that necessary at his young age due to Rodriech really handling all formal events for the empire anyway. Close to the middle of the eighteenth century as he began to age faster, going from about ten, an age he'd appeared to be for the past two centuries to fifteen in two decades. He'd adopted the name Ludwig, but few had been aware of this as he had begun to distance himself from Rodreich, and aligning himself closer with Gilbert who was his enemy at the time.

In a battle with Francis, a battle he shouldn't have been at if he'd listened to both Gilbert and Rodriech, but the young teen hadn't listened and rushed into a battle against the other crazed nation. Francis was almost insane from a decade of the reign of terror and then having a power hungry emperor bent on conquering all of Europe. He had given an already weakened boy a good blow to the head. It had put Ludwig into a death like coma that only Arthur, a close friend of Gilbert's at the time, could pull him from at the price of his memories. Originally it had been only him and Arthur who knew of the truth until Elizaveth started to show up quite frequently, figured out the truth. Why she hadn't told Rodriech, Gilbert did not know, nor had she ever threatened to tell the Austrian nation during any of their fights.

"Go away, Héderváry, I don't need this from you first thing this morning." Elizaveth gave him a dirty look before pushing back the covers and sliding off the bed to put on a new set of clothes. Gilbert sighed, getting out of bed himself and slipping on a pair of trousers before leaving the bedroom for Elizaveth's privacy and heading to the kitchen where Ludwig was hopefully making breakfast.

"Morgen, West." Gilbert said affectionately rubbing Ludwig's blond head much to the younger man's chagrin. He was standing in front of the gas stove with a cast iron skillet cracking eggs.

"Morgen, Gilbert." Ludwig said. "Will Mrs. Elizaveth be joining us?" He was always distant right after Gilbert spent a night with her. Ludwig, Gilbert knew, did not approve of their actions. Ludwig was worried that it would ruin the alliance between their two empires, something that worried him far more than it should.

"Not sure, we fought a little bit." Gilbert admitted with a small shrug, it wasn't the first time. He picked up the potatoes Ludwig had put aside to be cut up and cooked in the skillet after the eggs were done.

"You two always fight a little." Ludwig snorted taking the spatula and scrambling the eggs slightly. Gilbert nodded as he began to dice the potatoes, enjoying the Sunday morning with his brother. Maybe later they could take a walk with the dogs around the fields out back behind the house. Go see the duck pond back there. A quiet day before the storm hit. What storm? Gilbert frowned, looking down to see that he had nicked his finger with the knife while cutting a potato. A sign? He put the knife down as he walked over to the small water basin to wash the blood off. He glanced up to the small clock that hung in the kitchen, 10:08.

"Guten Morgen, Ludwig." Elizaveth said cheerfully as she came into the kitchen in a fresh brown dress and a smile on her face. Her anger with Gilbert put behind her.

"Morgen Mrs. Elizaveth." Ludwig said scooping eggs out of the skillet and onto a plate, just as Elizaveth gave out a loud shout before swaying on her feet. She would have probably fallen to the ground had she not reached out to grab the counter beside her.

"Oh dear, something's not right." She said as she leaned against the counter. The clock read 10:10.

**Sarajevo, Austro-Hungry**

A bomb! Someone had thrown a bomb at the Archduke's car, Rodriech seethed. If Gabrielo had been anywhere near the representative of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire at the time, Rodriech was not sure he would be able to control his actions. The old aristocrat persona he put up was fading away to the deeper blood lust of what he used to be. How dare the Serbians do this, attempting an assignation of his bosses, it was- it was. Rodriech shook with rage till the Sophia stepped back in from where the Archduke was talking with the governor after his speech on the steps of Town Hall.

"Are you okay, Rodriech?" She asked with a kind smile. She reminded Rodriech so much of Elizaveth, she had been on one important till Franz Ferdinand saw her on a tennis court one day and fell in love. Many of the court gossip that proliferated was about her and her low ranking birth, she'd been a Czech noble, but that wasn't good enough in the eyes of the Austrian elite.

He looked down to see his white, clenched knuckles and the small trail of blood from his pam where his trimmed nails had bit into him. Despite his rage he was trying to keep himself under control, he was not Gilbert after all; he could keep his emotions in check. Sometimes too in check it would seem, Elizaveth always pointed out his seeming lack of emotions during their many fights. How she sometimes saw him as little more than a moving statue. Her words had cut him deep, he had an outlet for all his pent up emotions. Music. Music was his outlet, where he could blow off the excess emotions that he did not wish to feel. Everything else could be manageable then. But he did not have a piano here to display his rage with, so his nails in the palm would have to suffice. The cuts would heal before the day was out.

"I am fine, Lady Sophia." He said with a forced smile. She had not inherited her husband's titles because of her birth, a compromised made when the Archduke married her, nor would any of their children inherit the Austrian throne, a shame really. "I am glad you and the Archduke are safe though." He opened his palm slightly, taking a deep breath, so he could assess the damage he had inflicted upon himself. Four small crescents had cut into his skin, but even know he could see them healing. They would close up by the end of the night and Elizaveth would be none the wiser. He didn't want her to start worrying over him.

"We are going out to see the men who were wounded in the bomb blast if you would like to come." The soft spoken woman offered. Rodriech wasn't sure he liked the idea of them leaving the City Hall so soon after the attack on their lives, but surely the danger was gone, two assassination attempts in the same day was impossible.

"That would be nice." Rodriech admitted, one of the governor's aids had been injured in the bombings as well as a few civilians watching the parade from the street corners. He pulled out his pocket watch, a gift from Vash a few years back for his birthday the sterling silver hands read 10:38, he should call Elizaveth when they got back to the hotel for lunch. She would know something had happened, she would be worried. And he would take the next train back to Vienna as he no longer wanted to stay here in Sarajevo. He doubted even the Archduke would spend the night now.

"Are we ready?" The governor, Oskar Potiorek, asked as he and the Archduke had just stepped out of the meeting room where they had been deciding what to do next. The Archduke had made a rather scathing comment during his speech to the people at the City Hall about being greeted with bombs and Rodriech was sure that the whole incident had now embarrassed the governor. It would have embarrassed Rodriech as well if he hadn't been as outraged about the assassination attempt as the Archduke was. Both Sophia and Rodriech stood up from the chairs they had been sitting in and nodded. The Archduke leaned over to kiss Sophia's cheek as they all followed the governor out of the building and back to the cars.

"Perhaps we should put the roof back on the cars before we depart." Rodriech suggested as he looked at the two black cars waiting out back, neither sporting a roof. Earlier they had made the argument that it was too nice a day to ride with the roofs on in the city, now Rodriech worried about safety. These two cars hadn't been damaged in the assignation attempt prior; the damage car had been left in the streets for the police to deal with as they had raced to get the Archduke and Lady Sophia to safety. The Archduke and the governor would ride in the first car; Rodriech would ride in the second as well as few guards.

"Nonsense, Rodriech," The Archduke said dismissively, he gave the country a hearty laugh before hooking his arm into Sophia's and walking down the steps of the City Hall. With a sigh Rodriech flipped open his pocket watch again to check the time, 10:41. He still had an uneasy feeling about this excursion. They should just stay here where they were safe.

The governor, Potoirek, climbed into the front seat of the car while the Archduke and Sophia were seated in the back seats. Rodriech climbed into the passenger seat of the car behind them, flipping his watch open again. 10:45 now, and he could hear the rumble of the cars starting, they were off. He took a deep breath, why was he so tense, the danger was over, he shouldn't have anything to worry about. He sat back in the seat, gripping it tightly, not really looking out the window, just thinking: about Elizaveth, about his home in Vienna and how he couldn't wait to return.

"We're not going the right way." The driver of Rodriech's car cursed a few minutes into their trip. "We're not supposed to go down Franz Joseph Street to go to the Goven-" The last part of the man's sentence was cut off by a loud bang and then another one simultaneously after followed by screams. Rodriech suddenly felt immense pain in his chest. He leapt out of the car, running to the car ahead of his. The Archduke! Already he could see police officers jumping onto someone in the streets. But Rodriech paid that little mind as he saw the shot to the abdomen the Archduke was suffering. He looked over to Sophia, blood was gushing out of her neck. Oh God, there was no way either one would survive this. Oh God, oh God. The pain began to well up more and more into his chest as he thought about the Archduke and his wife's impending deaths, but he pushed the panic to the side trying to focus on a way to somehow save the Archduke and Sophia. He could hear the Archduke speaking, but the words the man was saying went past him.

"Rodriech," the Archduke said with wheezing as he spoke pulling Rodriech's attention to him. "You must stay strong. Be good to Elizaveth." The Archduke told him as he stepped aside to allow the paramedics to take him. He wouldn't allow this to go unpunished. He felt his body sway, someone was shouting his name, but he couldn't tell who, as he fell to the ground, his chest burning in pain.

**Rome, Italy**

Romano Italy, known to most as Lovino Vargas, sat behind a desk in his home in Rome listening to the birds chirping through the open windows. There was a small stack of paper on his desk in his to-do pile, he needed to get started on it, but he would rather be out on the balcony overlooking the city of Rome listening to the birds chirp on this very nice summer's day. He twirled his very nice, expensive ink pen in between his fingers as he deliberated whether it was worth skipping out on paperwork today. He could catch up tomorrow at the office, but he had skipped mass today to work on it. He never skipped, this was a rarity of course, he almost never skipped mass what kind of Catholic would do that? But he also liked to keep the work he was supposed to do in check, do it the day it was due, not procrastinating, and the work had been overwhelming this week. He was doing the work of two now, if he skimped out on one day who knows how much he would have the next day. It wouldn't take long, he told himself, a half an hour max and then he'd be free to sip wine on the veranda listening to the birds chirp.

Lovino let out a sigh. The house was quiet, too quiet; he wished Feliciano was here with him again. What a strange wish from a brother who'd spent most of his life wishing his younger brother had never been born. He picked up the first paper; it was clipped to nearly all ten underneath it, a question from the King regarding a part of the economy. Did he have to be so wordy about everything; it didn't take ten pages to ask a single question. Lovino let out an irritated sigh as he flipped through the meticulously typed pages full of legal jargon and lengthy way of saying simple things. He did not appreciate the King's lesson in the many different ways of saying why without actually saying the word why. He flipped to the back page getting the gist of what the King wanted about four pages into it, the King had only left him about a paragraph's room to answer the question. He could feel his eyebrow twitching at the nerve of the man. Why had having a king been such a good idea? Fifty years of being a country and Lovino was ready to just drop it all like Feliciano had. He had a newfound respect for Antonio who had always done his work in the nearly two hundred years he was under his control without complaint, Lovino wasn't sure there were many countries who could say the same. Certainly not him.

He wrote out an appropriate response, trying to keep it short and curt. There was no reason for him to make it any longer than necessary though he was sure it would annoy the King like the elongated question had annoyed him. Plus it would be torture for him to write and he did not want to spend any more time in this stuffy house then was need be. The next document only needed his signature, a request for something to be built or something or the other he wasn't really paying all that much attention now to what he was reading

He glanced up and looked out the window; it was seriously too nice of a day to be sitting in his study doing paperwork. He wanted to be out amongst his tomatoes, they were fresh and ready to be picked, to take a look at the flowers he had planted in the pots, make sure they didn't need water. But he was stuck in here; he looked back down at his stack only a few more documents left to go. With a bit of a heavy heart he picked up the next document and got set on reading it.

"Mr. Vargas," His maid Maria knocked on the door, she was a human Lovino had employed to keep the house looking nice. A very nice young lady, she did a job well done at keeping the practically empty house looking lived in. Others might have suggested that he move into a nice town house closer to the heart of Rome where his government was, but this house on the edge of the city was where and Feliciano chose to live when they reunited fifty years ago and he did not want to give it up. "There's an urgent telegram for you." She walked over to his desk to place the envelope. Lovino let out a exasperated sigh, seriously what now, he had finished all his paperwork and was about ready to go out back and work in his gardens for the rest of the afternoon.

He took out the letter opener, not feeling like opening the yellow envelope himself, plus they were a devil to nails and slit the seal pulling out the official paper. The Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated in Sarajevo at 10:59 this morning. Lovino looked over at the clock on the wall it was only eleven forty-three now, the telegraph must have gone out right away for him to have it now. "Maria, I need you to bring the telephone." There went his afternoon. Idly he wondered what effects this would have on the world as a whole; it would put the Austro-Hungarian Empire in a tizzy for a little while as they would demand retribution for the assassination of the heir to the throne, Lovino was sure they had a line of succession so there wouldn't be that problem. They might even wage a small war against the Serbians, not that the Serbs would actually win. This incident wouldn't blow out of proportion would it? That would be stupid move on everyone's part.

**Danzig, German Empire**

Feliks yawned as he walked out of the cathedral, the service had been good, not one of the priests best, but still rather good. Church was something few countries still went to, many didn't see the point in a god, not when they had experienced so much pain and suffering because of them. But Feliks had gone since his country had been spared the Black Death, well for the most part. He had not experienced the pain the other countries had experienced when the disease had swept through their lands. He had considered it like a blessing from God and had continued to go to church even after the other countries had long stopped. Only the Italy brothers seemed to be more like devout then him, they did have the Vatican there in the heart of their country. Rumor was that the younger one had shirked his role of being a country to become a monk, no one had seen him in a few decades. Feliks really wouldn't know though when other countries disappeared or not, not if they weren't in the Russian or German Empire at least. His lands were divided between the two, and he spent half the year in Moscow or Warsaw depending on where he was needed the most and the other half in Danzig, Gilbert didn't like having him in Berlin, whatever. He liked Danzig better than Berlin anyway.

" _Dzień dobry_." Feliks said to the baker's wife as he passed by her on his way back home. A very nice lady, he liked to come into her husband's bakery to buy bread and other sweets while he was living in Danzig.

" _Dzień dobry_ , Feliks. How are you today?" She said stopping to talk to him. He gave her his best false smile and straightened the suit he felt rather uncomfortable in. He wished he could wear one of his dresses, Gilbert wasn't fond of him cross-dressing though and people in the Cathedral knew he was male.

"I- I am well." Well, that hardly described how he was. Physically he was well, he wasn't lying to her. But mentally he wanted to be back in Moscow with Toris, he wanted to make sure that his brunette friend (and former lover) wasn't pursuing after that she demon anymore. Natalia would break his heart; she only had eyes for her brother. He liked Danzig well enough, but his home was in Warsaw, his former capital, Danzig had changed so much that he hardly recognized it as a Polish city sometimes. He wondered if Gilbert forced him to live in this city to remind him that he was controlled by the Germans, no, Gilbert could be cruel, but they hadn't quarreled in over a century and the last time they'd spoken it had been quite civil. No doubts Gilbert had asked him to make this city his place of residence because of its proximity to Berlin and Königsberg.

"Well, it was good seeing you again." The baker's wife said and began to walk away from him. Had he really zoned out in front of her like that? Not cool. With a sigh Feliks began his walk back to his residents; he still couldn't find it in himself to call it a home yet despite his many stays here.

"Mr. Lukasiewicz," one of the maids said, "There's a message for you from Berlin. Mr. Beilschmidt said to call him as soon as you could, that it was extremely urgent." Feliks wanted to sigh in front of her, but couldn't that wouldn't be proper or something. Whatever. He walked up stairs to his study, shutting the door behind him. He didn't usually have too much paperwork to do, whatever Gilbert delegated to him to do, mostly about the Polish people living in the German empire, and so his study was full of manikins for the dresses he was working on.

"Operator, where can I connect you?" The operator asked, a high pitched female who sounded bored out of her mind.

"Berlin please, special code 1742." The code was for nations, it would ensure that he would get connected to Gilbert without going through a whole bunch of hoops.

"One moment please." Feliks nodded to himself and looked around his study, he had three manikins set up on the other side of the room, one only had a caged hoop skirt on it, the other two had bits and pieces of two different dresses put together. After whatever Gilbert had to say to him he would work on his dresses.

"Feliks, are you there?" Gilbert's voice asked over the phone, it crackled a bit with the connection but was otherwise clear.

"Like, what is it that you want?" Feliks asked trying to sound irritable, he wasn't really, but he didn't want Gilbert to know that.

"You might want to sit down for this." Feliks frowned, what news could Gilbert be giving him that was this big? He sat down on his desk for good measure instead of his chair. "An hour ago the Archduke Franz Ferdinand of the Austro-Hungarian Empire was shot dead in a motorcade along with his wife the Archduchess Sophia in Sarajevo." Oh no. Elizaveth, how was she doing? The representative of the Magyars had been a dear friend of his while growing up.

"Does this mean what I think it might mean?" Feliks asked quietly, would this assassination lead to the war Gilbert wanted? Feliks looked up at his map of Europe on the wall. Only the Serbs would have killed the Archduke in Sarajevo, they were unhappy about the empire's control over the region. And the Serbs were allied with –Feliks swallowed what spit was left in his mouth- Russia. If Austria went to war with Serbia, chances were that Russia would declare war on Austria, which would mean Germany would then more than likely declare war on Russia because Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire were each other's only allies, which would then pull in France because no one could fight Germany without France getting involved. A war between Germany and Russia though meant fighting on his lands; he was split between the two empires. If this had happened a few days ago he would be fighting with Ivan and Toris not against them.

"I need to know that you will stay with us, Feliks, that you won't turn coat because all your friends are on the other side." Gilbert's voice was serious as Feliks had ever heard it, no hint of his playful mirth and witty banter they both usually sent back and forth to each other. Would he turn coat, would he see Toris on the battlefield and lay down his weapon unable to fight him? He wasn't sure. He wouldn't know until he was there on the battlefield facing down Toris.

"Gilbert, you like know me better than that." He tried to make his tone lighter then he felt. He felt as if a rock had just entered his stomach and was grinding up everything he'd eaten for breakfast that morning as hard as possible. He was filled with dread for the future. Europe had been practically dying to go to war with one another for the past twenty years, and now, now they had the opportunity they'd always wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note (The part of the story where the author comes out and writes a silly note): Here we are again, at the end of Chapter Two. I really want to thank my readers, you guys are great. Tell me what you think if you like if you don't like it, feedback is welcomed as well as constructive criticism. If you want translations for anything let me know. Thanks for reading, don't forget to review.


	3. Chapter Three

World War One

Chapter Three: June 30- July 6, 1914

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

**June 30; Geneva, Switzerland**

The trip from Oslo to Geneva was a long one; he'd had to leave almost as soon as he got the telegram to make sure he would arrive at the meeting on time. A ferry ride from Norway to the main land of Europe in Germany and then a train ride down from there. Lukas sighed, he wasn't the first one in the conference room, Vash and Monique were sitting to one side, the neutral side as the case probably was. Vash was always neutral, and Monique wasn't big enough to really do anything that truly did not involve Monaco. "Good morning, Lukas." Vash said, Lukas nodded in return sitting across from the other two countries. "How was your trip?"

"I can remember when it used to take two weeks in horse carriage and boat from Copenhagen to Geneva, two days is not so bad." Lukas admitted, "Though this is rather sudden to be having a meeting, I doubt countries like America or Brazil will be able to join us."

"Actually, we're in luck, Alfred was in Russia when the assassination happened, he will be traveling here with Ivan." Monique said. Lukas wasn't so sure they would be lucky that Alfred would be there, the former British colony had a reputation of being brash and loud. Two things Lukas had tried to avoid in the past century.

The door opened again, this time a worn out looking Kingdom of Serbia better known as Gabrielo stepped in. Lukas wasn't sure what exactly he thought of the small nation. Serbia had caused a lot of issues for the Austro-Hungarian Empire even before this incident, but he also could sympathize with the want of having one's people united under one nation. Hadn't his nation undergone the same thing nearly a millennium ago? Had it really been that long ago? He looked tired; he probably hadn't slept all weekend either. He took a spot at the far end of the table away from the trio who were sitting in the middle, not saying a word to any of them. Vash looked down at his pocket watch.

"A half hour till the meeting starts. I need to step outside for a bit." Lukas and Monique nodded. As Vash reached the door it opened and in the door way stood the spikey haired nation of Denmark. Lukas had been hoping Mattias would be late, Mattias was always late, he had even been late to his own funeral once. So why was he here thirty minutes early to a meeting?

"Vash." He acknowledged the shorter man as he walked out of the room.

"Good morning, Mattias." Vash replied curtly as he left.

"Mattias." Said a voice from behind the Dane, Lukas raised his eyebrows in amusement; very few said the Dane's name with joy anymore. The Danish nation kept out of world affairs lately, he didn't even have colonies beside Iceland and Greenland.

"Gilbert." Mattias said curtly as the slightly shorter albino Prussian stepped into the door way beside his northern neighbor. His tone was less friendly then the albino's had been.

"You still angry about the-"

"I wo'ld s'ggest ya m've, G'lbert." The taller Swede said as he too walked up. Beside him Lukas could see Ivan and Alfred who were chatting away about something. Those two were close, closer than one would expect two nations to normally be who hadn't grown up together. It didn't really concern Lukas all that much, nations could do what they pleased, especially when they were powerful ones like Alfred was.

"Good morning Berwald." Mattias said, "Alfred, Ivan." He nodded to each one of them as he spoke. "Say Ivan, how's little Tino doing?" Lukas watched as Berwald tensed at the mention of the smaller Finnish man who had been under Russian rule for a little over a century now after being under Swedish rule for seven centuries. Seriously did Mattias have to pick at old wounds so much? He knew Berwald and Mattias did not get along, they probably never would, but what good was it to make jibes at one another so much?

"He's doing well." It was Alfred who responded not Ivan. The American smiled at both Mattias and Berwald. "In fact he was at the Tsar's party last Saturday and we chatted for a little while." Lukas couldn't tell if Alfred was just that much of an idiot or if he was genius who acted like an idiot. But he watched quietly as the tension that had built up in Berwald's shoulders since the mention of the Finn's name disappeared. Berwald pushed past Gilbert and Mattias to sit beside Lukas.

"Are you okay?" Lukas asked in a hushed tone to Berwald while glaring at Mattias, the Dane caught the look Lukas was shooting him and returned it with a dark look of his own. He then moved to sit with Alfred and Ivan though the Russian Empire looked like he wanted to protest the Dane sitting with them Alfred cut him off with a look. They could be good friends those two, Lukas decided as he watched them talk, both were brash and loud and didn't think things out before acting.

"Wh't a m'ss o'r f'mily t'rned 'nto." Berwald said, he was also looking in the direction of Mattias and the other two more powerful countries. Lukas wondered what his friend was talking about more Mattias's separation from them or that Tino was under Ivan's control, or maybe it was a mix of the two. Lukas had grown up with the tall gentle Swede and the loud and boisterous Dane for most of his life. All three had gone on Vikings together, all three's monarchies had been tied together for a while before coming under the Kalmar Union under one monarch.

"He should have thought more about that family he wanted before he let the power get to his head and gave us up." Lukas said bitterly turning back to watch the door no longer wishing to watch his old friend anymore. Who cared what the Dane did with his messed up life anymore, Lukas really wanted no part in it.

Gilbert he noted was sitting completely other side of the table from Ivan, Alfred, and Mattias who were sitting closer to Gabrielo. Probably because of Ivan's alliance with the Serbian nation. Already alliances were beginning to sit together, though Alfred had no alliance with any country here. He stayed out of European affairs for the most part, Lukas doubted the loudmouth nation would have shown up to the World Meeting if he hadn't already been on the continent visiting Ivan.

"'re ya st'll m'd at 'im f'r Vi'nna?" Berwald asked. Mad at whom? Alfred? Why would he be mad at- Oh. Wait. Berwald was still talking about Mattias. Lukas looked back over at the Dane who was now laughing at something Alfred was saying to him. Was he still mad at Mattias for letting him go a century ago, breaking their union they'd had for nearly three centuries? Yes. He should have fought harder for Lukas, should have done something, anything to keep them together. He had claimed to love him, and if he had why hadn't he fought so hard to keep them together? He was mad that Mattias still had Emil under his control, he had been separated from his own brother, and the Dane made no efforts to ever let Emil have his own independence and freedom. It had been Lukas who had found Iceland, Lukas who had done a good part in raising Emil to the young man he was today. But it was Mattias who still retained control over him, who did not let Emil see Lukas for whatever sick reasons the Danish nation had.

"Yes." He said. Berwald gave a small nod and turned away from the trio as well choosing to stare blankly at the wall. The taller nation did not make friends easily, and his friendliness had all but disappeared after Tino was taken under Russian rule. About the only countries he talked to now days was Lukas, Arthur, and Gilbert on occasion because of the nature of the steel trade between Sweden and the German Empire.

Lukas watched as an extremely weary looking Roderich made his way into the room. He did not look like the dignified aristocrat Lukas had always seen him as before. He looked more wild, there was a look in the pianist purple eyes that made him seem more dangerous. Lukas had never partaken in a war when Austria was a participant, though Mattias had once mentioned that the Austrian could be a fierce warrior when he wanted to be. He glared at Gabrielo, but the Serbian Kingdom did not seem to be paying the bigger power any mind. Behind Roderich was a slightly less tired looking Elizaveth, his wife and the representation of the Magyars. Both of them sat beside Gilbert. Lukas let out a sigh, things did not seem to be shaping up in a peaceful way and two of the biggest players had not shown up yet.

In fact more and more nations were filling the conference room; Herakles had now shown up, he seemed to be sitting closer to the side with Gabrielo then the side with Roderich and Gilbert. The nation of Montenegro, and the nation of Albania, Lukas could not remember their names sat beside Gabrielo, even Vladamir and Borris were sitting near their Serbian brethren. Lukas couldn't say he knew the Balkan countries rather well yet, most of them had only become countries quite recently due to the decline of the Ottoman Empire, and he had never really had contact with any of them before. But it would seem to Lukas they were putting up a united front when it came to where their loyalties lay in this disagreement.

Antonio and Sadiq had shown up as well, Antonio opting to sit next to Monique who sat diagonally from Lukas, so he had chosen the neutral area as well. Made sense, Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert were best friends, or had been before Francis and Gilbert began to hate each other after the fall of the Holy Roman Empire. Since then Antonio had tried to stay out of all their disagreements opting to become neutral before having to choose one of his friends over the other. It had strained his relations with both nations but Antonio's smile did not have seemed to have diminished. " _Hola, mi amigos_." He said to both Berwald and Lukas. " _Beunos días_ , Monique."   

"Hello Antonio, how are you this morning?" Monique asked politely as both Lukas and Berwald grunted back replies. Lukas did not want to be rude to the Spanish nation, he was going through some difficult times, but at the same time Antonio annoyed him with his chipper personality and his smiling all the time.

"Worried." Antonio answered, his face losing his smile and became quite serious, it was the first time Lukas believed he had seen that side of the Spaniard. "Roderich has been injured by this recent assassination, and he does not take kindly to foreign nations killing his leaders. He will not allow those he feels responsible, which is Gabrielo in this case, to go unpunished. Though I hope this will stay a regional war, and God have mercy on the souls that will descend into his realm, but I pray that it stays there and does not become a European war, for all our sakes." Lukas blinked in surprise; Antonio had put some thought into this. He obviously knew all the key players very well; he had once been married to Roderich, was best friends with Francis and Gilbert and had once been rivals of Arthur's. He knew how they acted, how they thought, if anyone could determine how this incident might play out it would be him.

"Ne'trality is o'r b'st co'rse 'f acti'n n'w." Berwald mumbled.

"Nothing is going to get decided at this meeting anyway." Lukas said, everything would happen in back room deals and private phone calls not here in a conference room. These conferences were farces, a way to bring all the nations together so they could bicker some more. Their leaders did not even meet like this on a regular basis.

"Good morning." A cheerful feminine voice rang out; Lukas looked up to see Belle and Lars standing behind Monique and Antonio. "Do you mind if we sit beside you, Lukas, Berwald?" she asked with a wide smile.

"It is nice to see you again, Belle, Lars." Antonio said, once they had lived in his house, and things between Antonio and Lars had been tense until quite recently when Lars realized that Antonio no longer held any amount of power and there was no need to be tense around him all the time, he wasn't going to take them back. A fallen empire who tried to touch the sun and found that it burned him in the process. Like Mattias, a quieter voice in his head whispered, but he attempted to ignore it.

The two siblings sat down beside Lukas just as Vash reentered the room. He glanced around, Lukas knew that not too many were missing now and the meeting should be coming to a start anytime now. He sat down beside Monique and looked over at everyone who was now sitting in the area. "So we are just waiting on Lovino, Arthur, and Francis then." Vash said with a frown. "What do you think is holding them up?"

"They're probably fighting." Antonio said, Monique nodded. Just then Lovino walked in, took a sweeping look of how the table was set up and then sat down beside Antonio. "Lovi!" The Spanish nation almost squealed.

"Don't call me that." Lovnio snapped back. "It's Lovino or Mr. Vargas." Lukas watched the couple with some amusement. Lovino had been rebuffing the Spanish nation's attention for years now, Antonio just never quit.

"Lo siento, Lovino." Antonio said quietly.

"You're a right fucken bastard, you know that!" the shouting came from outside in the hallway. "I don't why I put up with you half the time anymore, Francis!" It was Arthur that was shouting, he either did not care that every nation at the conference could hear him, or he had not realized that they had arrived at the conference room doors. The glorious British Empire that Lukas knew would not have dignified himself to shout or curse. It would have been ungentlemanly of him. Seriously was he now being snarky in his own head?

"Calm down, Arthur, or all of Europe will know you're having a domestic with me." Francis said mockingly as he opened the doors the conference room. Arthur stood in the doorway in shock, and Francis smugly walked in taking a seat next to Ivan. Beside Arthur stood another blond man Lukas did not know, one of Arthur's colonies maybe? He had so many of them, Lukas wondered how he kept track of them all.

"Hey Mattie, wasn't expecting to see you here." Alfred said, the blond man beside Arthur smiled at the American nation and waved. Arthur pulled along the taller nation to sit more by themselves in between the neutral nations and Francis, Ivan, and Alfred.

"Everyone is here then?" Vash said standing up and looking around. "Alright then the June thirtieth conference of 1914 begins. Today's topic is the recent assassination of the Austrian heir to the throne, the Archduke Franz Ferdinand." Both Rodriech and Gabrielo jumped up to their feet, the madness would now descend.

**July 4, 1914; Berlin, German Empire**

" _Fahr nach hölle, du schlampe_!" Gilbert shouted before violently throwing the ear piece of the phone back on its hook. His brother who sat across from him at the desk let out a small sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Did you have to say that to Francis?" Ludwig asked irritably. Gilbert rolled his eyes, he knew Ludwig was tense because Roderich and Elizaveth were coming to visit the office in ten minutes and they both knew what the husband and wife wanted. Support, the German Empire's full support no matter what happened. The war that Gilbert had been waiting for, for quite some time was now upon them and he would be able to defeat that French bastard once and for all. It would be a short war with Francis, he would prove to that. He would extract his revenge on Francis, more revenge then that he had dealt during the Franco-Prussian War forty years prior.

"Yes." Gilbert said indigently. Crossing his arms and shaking his head to get some of his white hair out of his face. "I will make him suffer like he has made me suffer." Ludwig gave him a blank face look. "He nearly killed you, Ludwig, I nearly lost you. I won't let him ever do that again."

"A century ago, B _ruder_ , you almost lost me a century ago." Ludwig protested. "Mrs. Elizaveth told me stories about how you and Francis once were good friends, how you fought together against her and Roderich." Gilbert frowned, when had Elizaveth told him those stories? "I am still here, I am okay." You have no memory before 1814, Gilbert wanted to protest, but could not find the voice to do so. He knew Ludwig was okay, he knew that, but there was still a part of him who wanted retribution for the Holy Roman Empire, for the young boy who should not have been out on that battle field, whom Francis should not have struck down so hard.

"He is a threat to our superiority, Ludwig. He is jealous of our empire, of the Deutschland Kaiserreich that we have worked so hard to create. He would have us torn apart again, two separate entities. We should be one. He would take Alsace and Lorraine, our land that we won." He could shake Ludwig for being so blind, why was he voicing dissent now? After so many years of careful planning, of working out to the exact detail how the next European war would be, Ludwig wanted to back out now, now that the fruits of their labor, of so many strategist's labor. No, Gilbert would not allow his Bruderchen, to lose his spine now.

" _Die Herrs Beilschmidt, ihren Besucher sind hier_." One of Gilbert and Ludwig's aides said. So Elizaveth and Rodriech had arrived, this would be the first time Rodriech would see Ludwig in a personal meeting without some kind of formal event going on at the same time. Gilbert had kept Ludwig's contact with other countries to a minimum; it was he that did most of the work for the Kaiserreich. He did not want Ludwig to know all the work that went into being a country. All the sacrifices one had to make when one made friend with neighboring countries. Like his friendship with Francis.

"Lass Sie in." Gilbert ordered, he stood up and walked around the desk that Ludwig was sitting in front of. This meeting was going to more trouble than it was worth. He would make snide comments at Roderich, Elizaveth would threaten him with that damnable frying pan of hers, Ludwig would sigh a lot and tell him to control himself, and they would have to take them out to dinner afterwards.

Ludwig stood up as well; he looked over at Gilbert with a small frown. "Just remember what I've said." Then his face became blank taking on Ludwig's perfected stoic face that not even he could read sometimes, and Ludwig had always been an open book to him. He hated when he couldn't tell what Ludwig was thinking, he had been such an easy teenager to raise, had been such an easy going kid that Gilbert had enjoyed stealing away from Roderich and taking him out for picnics on the Rhine.

"I will, jeesh Luddy, it's not like I have plans to take over the world or something. I just want to knock Franny off his high horse." Gilbert mumbled. Ever since that Corsican had taken control of Francis, he thought he could walk all over Europe, consequences be damned. Besides Gilbert was going to prove once and for all that he had the better empire, and he did not need fifty million colonies all over the world to obtain it.

"Thank you Gilbert, for meeting us on such short notice." Roderich said as the aide lead the couple into Gilbert and Ludwig's office not even allowing the aide to introduce them like normal. The aide looked a bit put out by Roderich's apparent rudeness, Gilbert raised an eyebrow at the Austrian's out of characterness but didn't ask.

"Thank you Hans, for leading them here. You are dismissed." The young Lieutenant nodded, clicked his heels and then walked out of the room shutting the doors behind him. The nations would not be disturbed. Gilbert turned back to the couple who were now seating themselves in the seats they had prepared. "Elizaveth, _Prinzessin_." Roderich bristled at Gilbert's jibe but said nothing. Ludwig had already begun the eye rolling. "How can we help you two today."

"Well I am sure you have some clue why we might have come to you after the events of last week." Roderich snapped, he was a bit worked up, not at all the calm aristocrat he almost always portrayed. Gilbert and Ludwig nodded; they had known since the World Meeting that this conversation would take place. Both empires found themselves in a precarious position as each other's only ally. It was not something Gilbert liked to admit, but he was just as much at Roderich's mercy as Roderich was at his. His and Bismarck's plans to isolate France had gone out the window when that pathetic excuse for a Prussian Wilhelm had taken over the throne.

"I am aware. You wish to punish Serbia and Gabrielo for the actions of last weekend." Gilbert said hardly batting an eye. "But if you were to wage war on Serbia you risk angering Russia who may or may not intervene on Serbia's behalf. Who knows with that lavender eyed bastard his moods change as easily as the weather does. You cannot wage war against both Russia and Serbia; it would spell your doom."

"Gilbert, is this really necessary?" Elizaveth asked looking a bit annoyed at Gilbert's long winded explanation of what everyone in this room already knew.

"You want to know if Ludwig and I will back you? Will give you our full support no matter what happens."

"Yes, that is what we want." Roderich said.

"This is something that the Kaiser will have to decide." Ludwig said. "Though I cannot see why he would decline such support. You have his condolences for the death of the Archduke, as you do Gilbert and mine. I am sure my brother forgot to mention such things on Monday's meeting in Geneva." Roderich gave him a funny look, but if he had anything to say about Ludwig he kept it to himself much to Gilbert's relief. The last thing he need right now was an inquiry by Roderich into Ludwig's past.

"You are right; Gilbert did not give us his condolences at Monday's meeting." Roderich said, his voice tightened, he was back in aristocrat mood. "Such a polite young man you've raised, Gilbert. Not at all like you were at his age." Gilbert laughed, throwing his head back.

"Yeah, I was quite the little shit, wasn't I?" His laugh ended with a grin that bared his teeth giving the albino a wild look to him.

"If that is how you want to describe yourself back then." Roderich replied with a snort, Gilbert ignored him. Roderich had always been jealous of how awesome he'd been back then, was still. With Antonio and Francis at his side there wasn't anyone who could knock him down. He'd been an army with a country, the greatest military might in the world. Invincible. And he'd been a lot happier with some aspects of his life. He was still a great military power; that upstart Arthur might have the better navy, but he would show that pathetic island- that had once been his friend a voice in the back of his mind reminded him- that he was the better country, that an army was worth more than a navy. "Arrogant asshole with just as egocentric friends is probably a better description."

"Are you still sore over Silesia?" Gilbert teased, earning himself a warning look from his brother and an annoyed look from Elizaveth.

" _Nein_." Roderich said, "It is history is it not. Besides, we are allies now, I doubt I will have to worry about the 'Bad Touch Trio' trying to seize my- how did you put it so vulgarly back then- vital regions?" Gilbert ignored what he considered Roderich's pathetic attempt at a stab back. He wasn't going to show the stuck up bastard how much he missed gallivanting around Europe with Tony and Frannie, besides he was still mad at Francis about Ludwig. The past was the past, he was Roderich's ally now not Francis's, not Antonio's. What would that Gilbert with his budding empire thought about him now, would he understand why he'd given up his friendships for his little brother, why Roderich was the better choice for an ally anyway, he was of Germanic blood, brothers of a sort. They had to stick together. You once called Francis and Antonio brothers as well the 'back of the head voice' reminded him, he didn't like this voice, it reminded him too much of Ludwig.

**July 6; Vienna, Austro-Hungarian Empire**

He lay beside her with a serene expression on his face, it was the most peaceful he'd looked since the assassination. The Archduke's death had hit him hard, it wasn't the first time he'd had leaders' assassinated, but it was the first time it had happened right in front of him. Elizaveth rubbed a hand through his chocolate brown hair careful not to wake him. She would need to get dressed soon, the maids would be in soon to draw back the curtains and awake Roderich, they had forgotten to tell the maids not to disturb them. Well not forgotten so much as she had practically jumped him last night, telling him he needed to relax, that she wanted to help him anyway she could and he had broken down in her arms last night. One thing had led to another. He was a rather handsome man once he let his guard down. Gilbert's question from last week plagued her, did she love him?

She didn't know. She had known Roderich since they were young children, she had thought she was a boy back then, so had Roderich and Gilbert. She had loved them both once upon a time, they were both so very different from each other, and yet so very much alike. Then she had gone to live with Sadiq and his empire. Roderich married Antonio, and Gilbert revealed himself to prefer the company of men. His love affair with Fredrick the Great had been kind of obvious to those who paid attention. Then Roderich rescued her from Sadiq, even though Sadiq really hadn't been all that cruel, and she lived with him ever since. They had only married a little less than half a century ago. She had always been enamored by him, the way he carried himself, the way he could play such beautiful music, how sure he always seemed. But she didn't know if it was love. She hadn't loved Gilbert; he had been a means to escape everything, friends with benefits more than anything. Her relationship with the albino nation always had been complicated. Well at least she wasn't the one keeping Europe's largest secret and destroying every friendship he'd ever had. One day Gilbert Beilschmidt was going to dig himself a hole that would be too deep for him to get out of, and she wanted to be there to watch when it did happen. In fact she wanted front row seats to it.

" _Guten morgen, Liebling_." Roderich murmured as she continued to run her fingers through his hair. Liebling, favorite, lover, it had many different meanings, but it was a term of affection, it was a term of love. Rodriech loved her; she had known this for many years, centuries even. He'd had a crush on her since he found out she was a girl. Gilbert had teased him mercilessly for it too. And yet she did not know whether or not that affection was returned or not, the heart it seemed was a fickle thing.

"Good morning, Roderich." She said back leaning down to kiss him. You are a cruel woman, Gilbert's words rang through her head as she kissed him, she pulled back rather fast and kept the sheets close to her chest trying not to feel guilty. Cruel. It seemed rather cruel of her to play with Roderich's heart like she did, but when one grew up in the many years that she had, playing the many games of courts; one learned how to be cruel. She hadn't been able to make many decisions about her future, about her own life, she played the game and she played it with an intent to survive. The Magyars would not be the first people to be swallowed up by other groups simply because they're representative could not play the game. In the end her feelings did not matter, not even now, when the world had become much more civilized. Women still had little say in their own lives.

"We will be needed in the German Embassy today. Kaiser Wilhelm's telegram should be coming. Gilbert is many things but he has always been a man of his word." Roderich sighed, he looked weary once again. He never liked war, and now that his anger over the incident had subsided Roderich seemed very wary over the outcomes of what their actions would bring. Gilbert wanted war, he was hungry for war, had been for some time. It was actually rather shocking that his war mongering would be aimed at France; Francis was once one of his closest friends. They had been brothers almost. Guess he didn't need Francis and Antonio now that he had Ludwig at his side.

"You want me to come with you?" Roderich often handled things pertaining to the empire by himself, it was why he was in Sarajevo by himself last week. He felt that it was undignified for a lady to get involved in politics. Thought she should be back home doing lady stuff. That's why she'd gone to Gilbert in the first place, no matter how much of an asshole he could be he never thought she was only fit for 'lady stuff.'

"Elizaveth, I don't think I would have made it this past week without you. Franz and Sophia were my friends, I was so looking forward to their reign, to the peace it would bring Austria. He could have solved our issues with Serbia, we could have had peace. And now- now that dream is gone. I need you here, with me, by my side. Right now you're the only thing keeping me going."

"You always did have a flair for the dramatic, Roderich. Gilbert always said that." Her husband's eyes narrowed slightly at the flippant mention of their ally and his former rival. "We should get dressed; the maid should be in any moment." Roderich leaned up to kiss her again.

"No matter what Elizaveth, I want you to know that I love you." He whispered before rolling out of bed. Damn him sometimes, he was the only person in the world who could make her feel this guilty. She was a hardened soul, a warrior, and yet Roderich was making her feel like scum of the earth right now without even realizing he was doing it. Why couldn't he have been this sweet and kind fifty years ago when they married, or a hundred years ago when they were raising Feliciano and Ludwig together, maybe they wouldn't have lost him on that battle field. Gilbert had done a fine job of raising him though; she was rather surprised of how Ludwig had turned out living with him. The family though really could only have one black sheep.

The German ambassador to the Austro-Hungarian Empire was an elderly man who had clearly seen better days. He was someone important in the German Empire though Elizaveth didn't have the faintest idea who he was. She was sure that he had attended some parties that they or the Emperor might have held, but she could scarcely recall him. There were so many people at those sorts of events it was almost impossible to keep track of everyone. "The telegram hasn't come in, I'm afraid." He said almost as soon as Roderich walked in, Elizaveth filed in behind him to sit on a seat. She needed to, for the moment, play the meek and dutiful wife, she would bash heads in later if she must.

"I-I am sure it will come soon." Roderich said his voice faltering just slightly. With Germany's backing they could now begin to truly debate what course of action was to be taken. While the faction clamoring for war in the Emperor's government was rather loud there were those who still wished for peace, including Roderich once he'd calmed down after the assassination. Roderich was not Gilbert, he was not a warmonger, but there were those in his court who thought Austria had grown weak with idleness. They like those back in Berlin wanted a war, wanted something to show that Austria was still a power to be reckoned with, that they weren't just fit for fighting petty wars with second rate nations to their south. Idiots, the war could bring the end of the empire if they lost, but no one ever thought that way.

"Do you want Germany to go to war, Ambassador?" she asked deciding not to beat around the bush. Roderich would ask in some coy diplomatic way that would only lead to a coy diplomatic answer, but she was tired of such answers. She dealt enough with that in the Emperor's court that she didn't want it from anyone else. The Ambassador looked a bit taken back by her question, whether it was that she was a woman asking it or by the directness of it, she wasn't sure.

"I-" the ambassador began to protest only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. " _Kommen Sie doch in_."

" _Mein Herr, nach Berlin ein Telegramm_." The youth said holding an envelope in his hand. He had short curly brown hair that peeked out of his gray cap. He reminded her much of the way she'd looked when she was about his age. She carried a sword wherever she'd gone and worn armor all the time though. He placed it on the Ambassador's death and then left the room. Quick the Ambassador opened it and began to read the telegram from Berlin to himself leaving Elizaveth and Roderich in some suspense as to what it contained. She rolled her eyes, wondering if the ambassador even truly knew who he was in the room with, Rodriech didn't flounce his status as the representation of Austria all that much, it could be that this ambassador didn't know.

"Here." The ambassador handed the telegram over to Roderich, Elizaveth quickly standing up as well to read what it said.

Confidential- For Your Excellency's personal information and guidance

_Berlin_

_6 July 1914_

_The Austro-Hungarian Ambassador yesterday delivered to the Emperor a confidential personal letter from the Emperor Francis Joseph, which depicts the present situation from the Austro-Hungarian point of view, and describes the measures which Vienna has in view. A copy is now being forwarded to Your Excellency._

Elizaveth wondered if Roderich knew what was in the letter Franz Joseph sent. Probably, he'd been with the Emperor all day for the past week or so, their visit to Berlin Saturday an exception. She continued reading the telegram skipping a few paragraphs or so as it pertained to the relations with other countries whom they could try to convince to come to their side. She would rather not ally themselves with Vlad and Romania due to her former rivalries with Vlad, but she could see the benefits of having him as an ally. Borris though was Roderich's preference and Elizaveth liked that a lot better.

_Finally, as far as concerns Serbia, His Majesty, of course, cannot interfere in the dispute now going on between Austria-Hungry and that country, as it is a matter not within his competence._

_The Emperor Francis Joseph may, however, rest assured that His Majesty will faithfully stand by Austria-Hungry, as is required by the obligations of his alliance and of his ancient friendship._

_Bethmann-Hollweg_

A blank check then, they could do whatever they wanted to now and Germany would stand behind them. No matter what. It was a dangerous power to have, and there was hardly any mystery of how it was to be used.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note (The part of the story where the author comes out and writes a silly note): I really want to thank my readers again, your continued support has been hugely important to me. I would also like to thank Emily who gets text messages every other day from me asking for her opinion of what I write and what she thinks could be improved.
> 
> OC's or names that I've created:  
> Borris: Bulgaria  
> There were also two unnamed OC's Montenegro and Albania, I may name them later, I may not haven't decided if they'll show up again.
> 
> Translations:  
> Fahr nach hölle, du schlampe- go to hell, bitch *I have decided that I feel Gilbert would talk to everyone informally because he is rude and slightly arrogant and there for would consider everyone short of his boss beneath him. So this command is in the informal, if my conjugation is wrong please let me know, it has been a while since I had to do informal conjugations.  
> Die Herrs Beilschmidt, ihren Besucher sind hier- Misters Beilschmidt, your visitors are here.  
> Lass Sie in- let them in  
> Kommen Sie doch in- Come in or do come in  
> Mein Herr, nach Berlin ein Telegramm- My lord, a telegram from Berlin
> 
> If there's anything I've forgotten or anything else you want translated let me know via review. Please don't forget to review, kudos, or follow.


	4. Chapter Four

World War One

Chapter Four: July 14-20, 1914

**Paris, France**

It was his birthday. He was… well he was old today. Francis sighed as he swished the champagne around in it's glass. He didn't know how old he really was, he lost track over a millennia ago. It didn't really matter anyway; he only looked to be about twenty-five or twenty-six. He could remember living in Rome's house as a small child with Antonio. He shied away from his more… disturbing memories of living there. They were a long time ago and he had dealt with the scars they'd left. It was his birthday; he was supposed to be happy. He had invited every nation in Europe to come to his birthday party as well as Alfred, Matthew, Kiku, and a few of his South American trading partners. Almost everyone had come, Alfred hadn't been able to attend, he had gone back to America a week ago and now had to deal with is neighbor to the south Mexico who was causing him trouble, and one other hadn't attended. Francis really hadn't expected him to; he always sent back the invitation with a few choice words for what he could do with it. It was okay, really. You couldn't please everyone.

"Happy birthday, Francis." Kyle said coming up, the young man had come in attendance with Arthur. Francis had told the island nation to bring all the colonies, the more the merrier. He liked it when his house was full of guests, when he was surrounded by people and was the center of attention. Arthur always said he was vain, and he had never argued with that statement.

" _Merci_ , Kyle." He said watching the young man walk through the crowds to find someone else to talk to. He had left the koala back at Arthur's home it seemed, the bear was nowhere on the young man's person. Francis was a bit grateful for that, the koala could be dangerous when it wasn't sleeping.

" _Guten Tag,_  Francis." Roderich said. He looked exhausted; there were small black rings around his eyes from where he wasn't sleeping. Preparing for war couldn't be that exhausting could it? He would have to make sure Gabrielo and Roderich didn't meet, it wouldn't do any good to give them anymore reasons to go to war.

"Roderich, always a pleasure to see you again." Francis said with a genuine smile. He liked Roderich and Elizaveth, he was a bit weary of the woman's frying pan but he liked her well. It was Gilbert she always had the bone to pick with, not him. "Elizaveth, you look beautiful today." The strong willed brown haired woman smiled back.

"Thank you, Francis and  _boldog születésnapot_." She said, her smile widening to show off her teeth. He hadn't been lying when he said she looked beautiful, the cream dress flattered her very much. It was nice to see such a happy couple; he and Arthur had been a bit on the outs since the assassination. Arthur refused to get involved if he got pulled into the war, he technically didn't have to go to war if Francis did because they only had a nonaggression type treaty. They only wouldn't fight each other. Arthur for the past century had been maneuvering his way around the world without creating treaties. He didn't need to, he had the largest empire in the world, and his navy scared just about everyone. Except the Germans. And it probably scared them a little bit too.

" _Merci_ , Elizaveth. You are too kind. I am glad to see you could attend. I know these are troubling times for the empire." Francis said curtly, he took a sip of his champagne.

"We will survive." Roderich said stiffly.

"Of course." Francis agreed. "Do say hello to Antonio, I am sure he will be happy to see you." With that Roderich pulled Elizaveth away, his back straight and uncomfortable. Francis sighed and mentally hit himself, the comment about Antonio hadn't been necessary and he knew it. Roderich wasn't comfortable speaking to his ex, even though their marriage hadn't ended on a bad note, well not personally at least. Roderich just never knew quite what to say, Antonio on the other hand was quite friendly to him on the rare occasion they saw each other. Neither one of them had wanted to be married to each other, and their marriage, if one could really call it that, had been full of affairs. Antonio's mostly with Francis's, though he had slept with Gilbert during those times as well. All three of them used to sleep together a lot back then, as long as Francis hadn't been spirited away by Arthur in his pirate ship. They had been close, so very close since the Roman Empire, all three of them.

He hadn't truly spoken to Gilbert in a hundred years. He regretted that, but it wasn't as if he hadn't tried, it was Gilbert now who wasn't giving their friendship a chance again. It was Gilbert who wanted to destroy him, who felt he was the threat. He still could remember Bismarck's plan to completely isolate him from the rest of Europe, he'd almost succeeded in doing so.

" _Feliz cumpleaños_ , Frannie." Antonio chirped sauntering up; Lovino was behind him looking as if he wished he was anywhere but here at his party. Francis smiled at his old friend giving him a kiss on each cheek as a greeting. "Lovi, tell Francis happy birthday." He nudged the younger man's ribs with his elbows.

" _Buon compleano_ , wine bastard." Lovino nearly spat out. Francis guessed it wouldn't be Lovino unless a few insults were thrown in there. He had no idea what his best friend saw in the kid, Antonio had raised him when he was a young boy you'd think that he'd act more like Antonio.

"Thank you." Francis said just deciding to accept Lovino's birthday wishes and move on.

"You look sad,  _mi amigo._ " Antonio said letting Lovino's hand go so the man could run off and talk to someone else at the party. Probably Bella, he and the Belgian girl had been close since the both lived in Antonio's house many years ago. "What's got you down? Are you and Arthur fighting again?"

"When are we not?" Francis asked shaking his head. He took another sip of his champagne; he was going to have to get another glass soon. "It's not Arthur, I was thinking about Gilbert again." It was Antonio's turn to frown this time, and he put a hand on Francis's shoulder. There was a sad look in his green eyes, he didn't like to see Antonio sad, such a joyful, lively man shouldn't have such a look in his eyes. But it wasn't as if they all hadn't experienced such pain in their lives.

"Gilbert is- Gilbert has- You killed his brother. He- he has never forgiven you for that." Antonio said quietly, he seemed uncomfortable to be breaching the subject, but he hadn't said anything Francis didn't already know. He knew that he had killed the Holy Roman Empire, that he'd killed the young boy on a battle field and then signed for his disillusionment later that day. That he had been mad and crazy at the time, and that Gilbert would never forgive him.

He wouldn't forgive himself. He woke up many mornings from nightmares about the boy, about the noose he found around his neck and Gilbert's pronouncement of his death as punishment for killing the Holy Roman Empire. He wasn't the first nation to kill another nation, Romulus certainly hadn't had an issue with it, the ruin of Carthage was a wonderful example of that. "I know." Francis whispered, he looked around the ballroom that the party was being held in, cream colored walls covered by the crowd of his many guests. Arthur was nowhere in sight, Francis wondered if he'd already gone back to the hotel he was staying in before taking a train to Calais in the morning and then the ferry back to London. It was getting rather late and Arthur did enjoy his sleep. Many of his guests were departing, trickling out of the room slowly, one by one. It had been a rather nice party even if Francis had found himself not really being able to enjoy it. He took another drink of his champagne and wondered when the taste of the stars had died out.

"You aren't alone, Francis, I am still here, still your friend. And I do not think Arthur has quite abandoned you yet to your supposed fate. Ivan is your ally, and I do not think he will abandon you." Antonio said trying to find some comfort in the situation for Francis. The blond nodded, putting the empty champagne glass down.

"So did you and Lovino come together?" He asked trying to divert his friend's attention to something else other than his own problems. Antonio shook his head and Francis waved to a nearby waiter for two champagne glasses.

"No, Lovi really doesn't want much to do with me these days. He says he's too busy trying to run Italy by himself. He had some choice words to say about the king as well. He thinks the man is an idiot." Antonio shook his head, "I know things have been tough since Feliciano left. Lovino is used to being in his brother's shadow, being out in the sun like this is very stressful, he's not used to it." Francis nodded sympathetically. Feliciano had always been preferred by everyone over his more callous big brother even as babies Romulus had seemed to prefer his smiling younger grandson over his louder big brother. Lovino had often been shoved into Antonio's care as he was the only one who could make him stop crying. Not even the boy's mother could do that.

"Things will get better,  _mon ami_." Francis said putting his hand on Antonio's shoulder and giving the tan man a smile. "For both of us you'll see." The waiter that Francis had asked for drinks from came back, Francis took both of the glasses filled with the cream colored drink that fizzed and bubbled. He handed one of the drinks to Antonio who barely looked at it before downing the entire contents barely tasting the champagne.

"I think I'm going to need something a bit stronger,  _mi amigo_." Antonio said taking Francis's glass out of his hands and placing the empty one in it, and then downed that glass as well. Francis almost was horrified by his friend's treatment of such fine champagne, almost. His behavior only showed how upset the Spaniard was, whether it was by Lovino's constant rebuff of his feelings or the tension heating up in Europe at the moment or a mix of both, Francis wasn't sure. But he knew a solution, a temporary one at least, to Antonio's problem.

"I have plenty more back at my place." Francis said with a not so subtle wink. Antonio smirked a little. "Besides," Francis's mouth went closer to Antonio's ear as he spoke. "You haven't given me a birthday present yet." He felt Antonio's spine shiver as his tongue lightly licked the outside lobe of his ear. He was so fun to rile up.

"I thought I gave it-" Francis silenced him with a finger to the lip and shushing noise.

"I know you did. And I really appreciate the tomatoes from your garden, they're wonderful and I know I can make something delicious with them." Francis said. "I was trying to be sexy." Antonio made an 'o' with his lips and nodded. Francis wondered if he should find someone else instead to have birthday sex with him. Arthur might be up for it if he was in a better mood, Mattias was here as well and though he and the Dane didn't speak much he knew that the man wasn't opposed to casual sex, and there were always nights spent drinking absinthe at the Moulin Rouge and cancan dancers if he was that desperate. Which he wasn't… yet.

"Sorry." Antonio mumbled, his cheeks now tinged red with embarrassment. They weren't nearly as red as Lovino when he was embarrassed or angry, but they were a deeper shade of red then Arthur's pink. It was rather endearing to Francis. He took Antonio's chin in between his forefinger and thumb and brought the Spaniard's face up to his and kissed him. Kissing Antonio was familiar and comforting to Francis, a reminder of old times. He knew how Antonio's lips would feel pressed up against his, how soft they were, how Antonio would bring his hands up to run his fingers through Francis's long blond hair to pull them closer together. "We should probably go back to your place." Antonio agreed before leaning in to kiss him again.

**London, England; July 15, 1914**

Matthew didn't fancy being Francis at that moment, or Kyle, Leon, and Raj either. The three younger boys were cleaning up some mess they had made earlier that day earning them Arthur's wrath which was already running rampant because Francis had slept with Antonio last night. Matthew sighed as he read through another proposal that needed his signature before it went back over the ocean to Canada. He was supposed to be back in Ottawa a week ago when Arthur was finished with his tour of Europe he was supposed to go on that got cancelled when the Archduke of Austria-Hungary was assassinated. His bosses back in Ottawa felt he was needed in London right now to help Arthur if anything was go awry. Everyone seemed to be on edge about a looming war that had seemed improbable until the assassination, funny how one thing could suddenly turn into something much bigger than it had to be. It was sad that the gentleman and his wife were assassinated, he had heard that they'd left children behind after they died, but he didn't see why Francis should get pulled into a war because of it. Yes he understood how, but still it didn't make sense.

He wished Arthur and Francis hadn't started fighting almost immediately after finding out too; the telegram boy had barely left the front stoop when the fighting had started. He had wanted to see his  _Papa_  a little bit. But Arthur wouldn't let him in the house after they began fighting, and Matthew doubted that the fighting would stop now. He frowned, signing his name at the bottom of the document. He understood why Arthur was upset, but he and Francis technically weren't in a relationship. It was complicated because, Matthew knew, they had been sleeping together and that Arthur harbored romantic feelings for the Frenchmen, but Francis didn't commit easily even when he did love you. And they had been fighting, and Francis probably had felt that Arthur didn't want to see him. He was glad he didn't have to worry about romantic entanglements; they almost seemed more trouble than they were worth. Francis and Arthur's certainly seemed to be.

Outside the sitting room he had converted into his office for the time being he heard the phone ring, he would have to get it. Right now Arthur was pissed drunk off the remaining alcohol in the house and was in no condition to be answering the phone, no matter who was on the opposite end of the line. Though if it was that German hoser he might just let Arthur talk just to annoy the man. Matthew held very little love for the man who had hurt his  _Papa_  so badly. With a sigh he stood up on the third ring and went out into the hallway where the phone was. "Kirkland residence." He said picking it up.

"Is, uh, is Arthur there?" A peppy feminine voice asked with a slight lilted French accent, Belle, Francis's extremely kind neighbor to the north. Matthew didn't know her all that well; he didn't know most of the countries all that well. This was the first time he was out of Canada for a major crisis and getting to meet everyone else. Arthur kept his colonies rather sheltered, Matthew was surprised he let Raj and Kyle come along to Francis's birthday party yesterday.

"No, he is indisposed at the moment. Can I take a message, eh? I am sure he'll call back as soon as he possibly can." Matthew shifted slightly on his feet and looked around the hall for a piece of paper and pen. Putting a hand on the receiver he called out to one of the younger colonies passing by to get him some paper. "Sorry about that." He apologized.

"It is no problem." The woman said on the other side, he could practically see her smile in her voice. The younger colony gave him the pen and paper before scurrying off to find something to do. "Just ask Arthur if our trade talks were still going on in a month. I know things in Europe are tense right now, but I am sure neutral countries such as ourselves won't be drawn into such nonsense." Matthew nodded writing down the Belgian's message, she seemed like such a nice girl he hoped at the next meeting he would be able to talk to her. It was good to start cultivating relationships so that when he finally was no longer a dominion but his own country he would already have said relations in place. "You're Matthew, right?"

"Yes." He said nodding.

"You're such a darling, so polite. Arthur's done a fine job raising you. I'm sure you don't remember but when you lived with Francis, I used to stop by often and give you sweets." No, he didn't remember that, but he didn't doubt it happened either. He was so young when he lived with Francis, so very young. He remembered mostly the good times, or he tried to at least. It was hard remembering things at such a young age. "I hope to see you soon, Matthew."

"You too as well." Matthew said awkwardly before hearing the sound of her disconnection. He put the phone back on the hook and took the message he'd written down for Arthur and headed over to Britt's study. Hopefully he hadn't made it too much of a warzone in there.

He quietly opened up the door to Arthur's study, the nation was slumped over his desk surrounded by liquor bottles, the mirror that normally hung on the wall was scattered in many pieces all over the floor. Some of the bottles had been knocked over with liquid still in them covering much of the paperwork that had been on the desk in brown liquid. Matthew scrunched his nose up at the smell; Arthur had broken out his stash of rum. The Englishman had favored that liquor above the others because of its popularity when he was a pirate running around the Caribbean. With a small sigh, Matthew realized that Arthur's head too was lying in the brown liquid.

"Is he okay?" Johannes asked standing behind Matthew and trying to peer over the taller nation's shoulder. Matthew ignored his question and pushed the door open wider so he could enter.

"Draw a bath, please." He ordered the younger boy as he walked over to Arthur and tried to push him off the desk. The man was heavier then he looked. He took a step forward to get better leverage on Arthur and heard glass cracking. It was a picture of Francis, Matthew carefully bent down to pick up the picture, it didn't seem to be too cracked. He slipped it into his coat pocket to return once Arthur was much more sober. Then he slid one of Arthur's arm over his shoulder, putting his right hand under Arthur's right arm and lifting the shorter man up. Arthur's head lolled down and Matthew felt as if he was performing some sort of Olympic sport, and he still had to get Arthur up one more flight of stairs. Why had he been cursed with two dramatic parents?

The bath had done wonders for Arthur; Matthew sat on a nearby stool while his father laid in the porcelain claw foot bath tub immersed in the warm water that Johannes had drawn for him. Matthew had sent the boy to make a kettle of tea for Arthur when he woke. He hated it. He hated that Francis drove him to drink in such excessive amounts. Hated that Arthur let him do it. This wasn't new, according to everyone who had ever spoken to him on the subject; this was the way their relationship had been for many centuries. No one ever said what drove them to this type of relationship, but Matthew had his suspicions.

"How'd I get 'ere?" he heard Arthur slur, he jumped off the stool and looked over the side of the tub to see that one of Arthur's light green eyes was opened blearily, and as the other one opened he began to blink rapidly. "Matthew 's 'at you?"

"I'm right here." Matthew said reassuringly and went to get a wash cloth from the stand. "You should probably wash your face; you were lying in rum for quite some time." Arthur took the small white towel with a nodded, touching his face and wrinkling his nose at how sticky it was. Matthew went to sit back down on the stool to give the straw haired man some privacy while he woke up.

It was quiet in the bathroom for some time; Matthew had been a bit afraid that Arthur had fallen asleep in the bath except that he could hear splashing every few minutes and low muttering. "I'm sorry luv," Arthur said breaking the silence, "I'm sorry you had to see me this way again." His head popped up over the top of the tub, he looked a lot more sober now then he had when he'd woken up five minutes ago.

"It's- it's okay." Matthew said with a small shrug, he fiddled with a button on his jacket not looking Arthur in the eyes.

"He's terrified you know." Arthur said after a few moments. Matthew frowned, a bit puzzled by who Arthur was referring to. He heard the water move against the tub and looked over to see that Arthur's head was now resting on his arms which were lying on the tub's rail. "Francis."

"Oh." Matthew mumbled.

"That's why he slept with Antonio, and I know it's why too. I know that we've been fighting and so he felt he couldn't turn to me. I know that Antonio can offer him comfort about it that I can't." Arthur rambled frowning. "And I knew all this and I still drank all that, and put all that pressure on you. I've always put too much pressure on you. I've always been able to count on you, Matthew, and I take advantage of that."

"Arthur, it's okay." Matthew tried to say, but Arthur didn't seem to hear him, he just went on about how he was treating him unfairly and that Matthew shouldn't have had to take care of everyone just because he was being over dramatic. Matthew had to agree with him, he was over dramatic, but honestly Matthew didn't mine taking care of the younger colonies or being there for Arthur.

Arthur slunk back down into the tub, the water must have been freezing by now, but he didn't say anything about it, he just left Matthew to his thoughts. Which revolved around his  _Papa_ , which was now becoming a much more frequent reoccurance. "Why is he terrified?" he asked quietly.

"What was that luv?" Arthur asked popping his head back up out of the tub.

"Why is  _Papa_  terrified?" Arthur frowned and then let out a very loud sigh and closed his eyes.

"Because of what he thinks Gilbert will do to him, because he knows Gilbert is angry with him, and believes him to be rightly so. There are things that happen in this world that we don't mean to happen. Sometimes events spiral out of our control, sometimes we spiral out of our own control. We are nations, Matthew, but we are also people too. We act and function like human beings, we just don't grow older the way they do, we're tied to the land the way they are not." Matthew had never thought of how ancient Arthur was till he looked into his eyes right at that moment. His eyes looked ancient, betrayed the years his caretaker had seen. They were so many more years then he had ever seen. "We can go crazy too, remember that. Francis went crazy about a hundred years ago. I am sure you remember I left you in my brothers' care while I went to go fight." Matthew nodded, Brian and Wolfbric had taken care of him for a few years, they weren't nearly as strict as Arthur was or as uptight.

"In your  _Papa's_  madness, he did something he will regret till the end of his days. He did something he never would have done when he was sane and he did something that tore his best friend apart and ruined their friendship. He killed a nation, Matthew. A very old nation with a young personification." Arthur looked down, and Matthew wondered what the look on his face must be. He felt horrified inside, horrified that Francis did such a thing, killing a nation was one of the worst things anyone could do. He must have been quite crazy at the time for him to have done it.

"Why are you telling me this?" Matthew whispered.

"So you understand why Gilbert wants to destroy Francis, why he his terrified of what Gilbert will do to him." Arthur said. "I am afraid for him too, Matthew. I am so afraid, but we won't enter unless neutrality had been compromised."

"Who's neutrality, eh?"

"Belgium's." Arthur leaned down in the tub and Matthew heard the chain rattle and the water begin to gurgle as Arthur allowed the water to drain out. "She's afraid Germany might invade her to get to France."

**Copenhagen, Denmark; July 20, 1914**

Mattias frowned as his visitor walked into his office, it was quite a mess with papers scattered all over his desk and book cases over cluttered with knick knacks. Dust covered everything but his desk; he just couldn't find the energy to clean it. "What do you want this time, Gilbert, what territory of mine could you possibly want this time?" The albino stopped walking when he reached the Dane's desk and gave him quite the wild smile.

"No territory this time, Mattias, just support." Gilbert replied putting both hands on his desk. "What do you say, do you want glory again?"

"I'm neutral, and I intend to stay that way, Gilbert." Mattias's tone was unfriendly and slightly annoyed. He had better things to be doing right now then dealing with his neighbor to the south. Well no actually he didn't but he didn't really want Gilbert to know that. He felt weary most of the time, his bones and muscles aching. He wondered silently to himself for the past fifty years if this was what it felt like for a nation to be disappearing. If the other nations kept chipping away at him like they had been doing for centuries he just might do that. "Besides, the only way I'd side with you is if I get the Jutland back."

"Not going to happen."

"Well then, it sounds as if you and Rodriech are on your own for this one." Mattias shuffled papers around on his desk, aching to have his axe in his hands right now. Gilbert could probably still take him even if he did, he was weak now. Weaker then he'd ever been. He had lost Lukas, Berwald, was on the verge of losing Emil, his empire was no more. He wondered if he'd even ever truly had an empire or just the illusion of one in his own mind. He wished he felt as happy-go-lucky as he made everyone think he did.

Gilbert leaned back and sighed, eye Mattias as he did. "When did we become enemies?" Mattias gave him a funny look and barked out a laugh. Was Gilbert crazy? They'd never really gotten along, always fighting over the Jutland and holding a stalemate about how far south his borders truly went and how far north the Holy Roman Empire's did. Things had been an uneasy peace on his southern borders for quite some time. "You looked up to me once."

"When?" Mattias barked.

"When we were children living with Aldriech. When he found you and Berwald up here, Lukas too. We took you in, do you remember?" Gilbert asked. That was before the Vikings, before he and Berwald started to hate each other, back when they were all a family. It wasn't time he thought of often, too far back in his memory; too much he wished he had back. The freedom he'd had back then, they'd all had back then. His promises to protect Berwald and Lukas by being the oldest, that's all he'd ever wanted to do, protect his family. It was all anyone ever truly wanted to do. Look how badly he'd fucked that up.

"I remember, but what does any of that have to do with this? Our governments don't get along, and you truly aren't' that desperate to try and convince such a disgraced nation as myself to join your sides really?" Mattias asked in a bit of disbelief.

"No, we're not desperate, every bit of evidence points that we will win. That this war will be short and that we will be victorious." Gilbert said proudly, they probably will be, Mattias thought, Ivan certainly wasn't prepared for war and neither really was Francis. "But I was offering you, Mattias, just you a chance to reclaim some of your former glory."

"I told you my terms, I want the Jutland back." Mattias said, "If that is all, I suggest you go." Gilbert turned and left his office not even looking back. Mattias collapsed into his chair, he hadn't even realized he was shaking till much later, nor did he realize that he had started a fit of maniacally laughing either till a maid came in much later and helped him calm down from his fit. It wasn't the first break down he'd had like that, but they were happening with increasing frequency and he wondered, not for the first time if nations could be committed.

**Tokyo, Japan**

Kiku tried not to let his impatience show as they waited for the Emperor to arrive. He was getting out of control. Already rumors were being to swirl around the capitol that the Emperor was incompetent, if they stopped believing in their emperor, would they stop believing in the idea of Japan itself? Kiku frowned, all this philosophical talk about koku-tai was starting to go to his head, before the Meji restoration and when Alfred came no one wondered what it meant to be Japanese, they were just Japanese, they were the gods chosen people. There was no question about it. So why now? Why had the philosophers now begun to question what being Japanese was?

He pushed aside the unwanted questions and thoughts that had plagued his idle mind for the past decade or so. He had no time for them now, war was upon Europe, they were eight days out from the Austro-Hungarian Empire's ultimatum to the Kingdom of Serbia time ran out and no one very much thought that the smaller kingdom would actually listen to what the dying empire had to say. And it was a golden opportunity for Japan, an opportunity to gain more lands and resources that the island nation needed, to prove that they were on equal terms as all of the other European powers. They had reversed the unequal treaties set up a half a century ago when Japan didn't have the fighting power to stop them, now they just had to prove to be Europe's equal. Kiku knew they could do it, that by helping the Entente they would earn the respect they deserved.

There was a timid knock on the door, to which one of the ministers's aids opened it in response. Im Yong Su stood there, pale faced and looking at all of the important people before stepping in. Kiku frowned, why was the Korean boy here, he had tasked him to taking care of the Emperor, an honorable position even for one not of the Japanese race. "Sirs," Im Yong Su said bowing to them. "I bring a message from the Emperor himself." No one said anything, there were no gasp of astonishment or sighs of irritation, there was just silence. "He says he is not coming, that he is unwell, and wishes the ministers to carry out the meeting without him. He expects Honda-sama to make a full report to him after the meeting though." Im Yong Su bowed again and then departed from the room.

Prime Minister Ōkuma Shingenbu, an elderly gentleman who had already been Prime Minster one other time in his life and had helped reform the government after the Meji Restoration seemed to sigh in relief of the news. "It is unfortunate that the Emperor has fallen ill, we must make sure that we come to best decision we can in his name." The other ministers murmured their agreement with the Prime Minister.

"War is coming," the Foreign minister said, "there can be no mistake now. Japan has to decide who she will enter with, France or Germany." The others around the table nodded in agreement. "England is our ally, and yet the empire has proclaimed neutrality in this incident. Should we follow her lead and stay out of this war or should we enter?"

"We should enter of course." The Minister of War said, "Think of the territory we could gain by entering on either side, France controls Indochina while Germany has many territories doting around the Pacific, both could give Japan what we need for international rise."

"What do you think about this, Honda-san?" The Prime Minister asked turning to Kiku.

"It is illogical to think that the British will truly stay out of this war no matter what they say right now." Kiku said calmly, "Even now they prepare for war; we should propose to them our help. We should allow them to see that we are willing to uphold our end of the treaty. We are allies after all, are we not?" The minister of war frowned, but the Prime Minister and the Foreign minister both seemed to agree with what he had to say.

"Honda-san words are wise. We should not be so quick to rush into this war without first weighing the results of either side." The Foreign Minister said. The Minister of War frowned but said nothing to the contrary. Another minister spoke up in his defense; Kiku sat back and watched as his government worked, a small group of wealthy men all with their own political agenda and ideas, and who claimed to help the Emperor but in reality controlled everything. The legislature had gained some power in the past decade, but they still lacked the power and influence to control the bureaucracy, and the people didn't seem to mind so he didn't mind. Perhaps it was better this way.

They argued with each other, each bringing up ideas and points that made sense to themselves and a few of their colleagues. He found that during these times it was better to remain quiet and observe like the Prime Minister was doing. He would report on this meeting to the emperor later, though he doubted he would mention the arguing. He would tell the emperor of the council's decision, mention that they acted in his will and the emperor would agree even if it was declaring war on longtime allies. Taisho lacked the will and the determination needed to control the bureaucracy like his father had, to an extent. After some time of debate the Prime Minister brought it to a close, ordering a vote though it seemed obvious which side would win such a thing. Kiku watched the procedure with a heaviness in his hearts, things were being set in motion like a small brook that formed into a raging river, and he wondered where this decision would take them in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note (the part of the story where the author comes out and writes a silly note): Sorry for the long delay, I moved back into college and have spent the past couple of weeks acclimating as well as working on a one-shot to go along with Iron. It takes place in Ancient Rome and tells the story of the abuse Francis suffered by Romulus that is hinted at in the beginning of this chapter. Its called Blue Lips and I will be publishing it shortly.  
> Note: koku-tai as my Modern Japanese History professor described it was a sense of Japaneseieness (his word not mine). Its the very idea of being Japanese, it became a big thing after the Meji restoration in 1868 and played a huge role in the thirties in the rise of militarism and totalitarianism in Japan.
> 
> As always feel free to leave a review either praise or constructive criticism I would like either. Let me know what you think. Thanks.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note (the part of the story where the author writes a little note): This is my big project that I have been working on. I This story is being posted in commemorating the assassination of the Archduke which happened a hundred years ago. I'm a few weeks late though. I wanted to do something and so writing the war from the point of view of the nations seemed almost appropriate. I am hoping to have a chapter out every week, but I make no promises. I'm on break right now but I do have a busy work schedule and writing doesn't always happen when I want it to. Next week I am going on vacation and won't be able to update.
> 
> OC's and names that I've created:
> 
> Gabrielo: (Age 17) He represents what will become Yugosalavia but right now just the Serbian people. There are representation for all the countries who will come out of Yugoslavia when it breaks up but I felt that for this story that was too many characters to create and so I am sorry to anyone whom I might offend by just using Serbia.
> 
> Rajesh: (Age 15 or 16)India, I know Himaruya created an India in one of his Halloween comics (I believe) but he doesn't have a name so I found one.
> 
> Johannes: (Age 12 or 13) South Africa, his name is derived from the city Johannesburg. I deliberately didn't describe him because I wanted to leave him up to the reader's interpretation. Personally I think he is more of a mixed heritage with the Zulu tribe and the colonization, but that's my personal take.
> 
> Kyle: (Age 16 or 17) Australia, he doesn't have a name and I like Kyle.
> 
> Wallace: (Age 16 or 17) New Zealand, we don't actually see him but Arthur does mention him so I thought it apt to put him down here.
> 
> If you have any questions or concerns feel free to contact me by review. Please remember all flames are sacrificed to llama gods.


End file.
